Mysteries: Murder in the Death Chamber
by LupitaSnape'sBellydancer
Summary: Gwendolyn Bale is an Unspeakable working in the Brain Room of the Department of Mysteries. Recovering from an unhappy relationship, she has settled in a small Cornish cottage, enjoys her new work in London, and looks forward to visiting the Quidditch World Cup in summer. Everything seems to develop fine, but then a murder happens right in the Death Chamber...
1. Chapter 1

**MYSTERIES**

_Murder in the Death Chamber_

Note to Readers:

Adalbert Waffling, Ali Bashir, Basil from Transportation Department, Madame Maxime, Madam Rosmerta, Erich Munch, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Bertha Jorkins, Severus Snape, Professor Sprout, Rubeus Hagrid, James Croaker, Broderick Bode, Walden Macnair, Ludo Bagman and the Wimbourne Wasps, Wilkie Twycross, Reginald Cattermole, Rita Skeeter, Cornelius Fudge, Madam Edgcombe, Lord Voldemort, Sirius Black, Winky, Mr Crouch, the Weird Sisters, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Victor Krum, Aidan Lynch do not belong to me, nor do magical places like Tinworth, Hogsmeade and its shops (Gladrags Wizardwear, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Honeydukes, Dervish & Banges), Hogwarts and "The Three Broomsticks", the Department of Mysteries, and its rooms, the Ministry of Magic, and its Departments. The Daily Prophet, the hippogriff Buckbeak and the Quidditch World Cup are not my invention, either. The aforementioned all belong to J. K. Rowling.

_Tuesday, 19 April 1994_

Gwendolyn Bale stubbed out her cigarette in the blue glass ashtray Miss Carthew, her next-door neighbour, had given her for her last birthday. "Smoking early in the morning is especially unhealthy, " it piped. Gwen ignored it and drained her teacup. "Nothing like a nice little cigarette after a delicious morning tea," she murmured with a small cough, even though she knew it was pointless since the ashtray would not understand a reply. She put her teacup into the sink. Wookey, the house-elf, would come later, she used to sleep in Miss Carthew's house and do her household first.

Napoleon was already fast asleep, snoring a little. After a successful hunt at the crack of dawn the black tomcat had returned home to Gwen's cottage and collapsed onto the fluffy cushion on his favourite chair near the coal furnace.

Gwen took off her glasses, cleaned them with a Tergeospell and put them on again. _Will the wizarding world ever find a treatment for my shortsidedness_? she grumbled inwardly. _Lots of spell, charms, and potions, and I am still running around with those glasses._ She sighed. Ophtalmology was clearly not her area of study.

Gwen looked out of the window of her tiny kitchen where the sun had begun climbing the horizon. The view to the rough cliffs in the distance, still being wrapped in thick grey mists, was spectacular. She got up, stretching and yawning, and gathered her old leather bag, her wand and her violet cloak, which was, in her opinion, a perfect match for her lilac-coloured robes. Then she went to the fireplace in the sitting room, opened the small wooden box engraved with red symbols, which usually contained her floo powder, and suddenly gasped.

_Oh no_, she thought, _I forgot to get some!_

She looked around frantically, but there was no denying the fact that she had forgotten to procure new supplies of the silvery powder. She hasted back to the kitchen, and after rummaging a while in the old wooden kitchen cupboard, she gave up, knowing she would not find anything there. She looked at the round clock hanging over the door. Nine o'clock, she would be late!

She rushed outside. Fresh salty wind from the sea hit her face. Her cottage stood near the cliffs. The whole wizarding settlement consisted of only three cottages that crouched against the ever-blowing wind, but this April morning was particularly cold, and the breeze contained droplets of rain.

She knocked at Hugh's door and hoped she would not wake him. Some moments later, he stuck out his head. His dark eyes looked tired, the soft wrinkles around them were deeper than usual. His black hair stuck in all directions.

"Morning, Gwen, what's the matter?" he asked yawning, scratching his beard. His brother Joshua owned a pub in Tinworth, and he sometimes helped him out.

"I am so sorry to wake you, but I ran out of floo powder, could you lend me some?"

"Floo powder," he looked a bit confused. "Right, I'll get you some." He returned after a few instants with a small bottle. "Don't you get your floo powder at the Ministry?"

Gwen looked guilty: "You're right, but I … er … forgot to get some."

Hugh just nodded, already closing the door, which was not easy due to the strong wind, as Gwen thanked him profusely and wished him a nice day.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen stumbled out of one of the gilded fireplaces on the left-hand side of the Atrium. She brushed some ashes from her short brown curls, put on her glasses, which she always pocketed before flooing, and hurried to the lifts_._

"Hi Gwen!" someone called as she passed The Fountain of Magical Brethren. She looked around and recognised Vivi Gregorius' platinum blonde shock of hair.

"Hi, Vivi, were are you going?"

Vivi was one of her colleagues and responsible for the acquisition of brains, prophecies, clocks and other issues the DoM needed. As ever she radiated efficiency in everything she did.

"Going to meet a healer at St. Mungo's." Vivi gave a brilliant smile, her eyes were twinkling. Under her arm she carried a claret-coloured dragonhide briefcase.

"Seems they could lend us a hand there. I'll be back for lunch, I hope! See you later!"

She winked at Gwen, then drew out her elegant pocket-watch, nodded and strode to the fireplaces on the right-hand side of the large hall, her red robes billowing after her slender tall figure to reveal her ruby-coloured high-heeled dragonhide boots. Gwen noticed that some heads turned to follow her attractive colleague on her way out.

The Atrium was still bustling with people, even though most of the Ministry workers had already gone to their offices. Gwen rushed to the golden gates in the adjacent smaller hall and noticed the eternal Erich Munch talking to a group of visitors. She entered an empty lift, which – after she'd pressed the button – went down one level.

"Department of Mysteries," the cool female voice announced as usual.

Accompanied by some violet-coloured flying memos Gwen hurried through the simple corridor that lead to the plain black entry of the Department where she'd been working now for a bit more than a year.

Slightly panting she opened the door with this week's code, "_Our research is the foundation upon which wizardkind builds its future_", and entered the circular room. Despite her being in a hurry, she wondered how they came up with codes like this every week. And each week they had to learn them by heart.

Before closing the door behind her she extracted from her leather bag the special silver instrument every Unspeakable owned. It had the form of a double-helix with a slim rod in its centre. When she pressed it, a blue flame erupted from an opening at its tip, and the instrument began vibrating and emitting a soft purr – now was the time to perform the spell that prevented the wall from revolving: "_Caverotari"_. Only then Gwen closed the door. At once the instrument stopped vibrating, and blue inscriptions appeared on the series of black doors, indicating to which room they led. She put the instrument back into her leather bag, and opened the door that had "_Room of Brains_" written upon it. Some memos entered with her, the others remained floating in the circular room, waiting for someone to open the respective room they were directed to. She would be able to see the inscriptions until she left the Department through the black door in the evening.

"Good morning, Gwen!" Bob greeted her cheerfully. He was pouring a bottle of a green liquid into the big brain tank. "You're a bit late, aren't you?"

"Morning, Bob," she replied. "You're right. Anyone asked for me?"

"I don't know. You'd better ask Ad and Isabelle. Argh!" He had spilled some drops of the liquid on his red overall. "Merlin's beard, how stupid of me! Excuse me." He rushed off to one of the doors that lined the walls of the room. Gwen could hear water from a tap and the chinking of glass.

She approached the tank and looked fondly at the pearly white brains. "Morning, my little cauliflowers," she murmured under her breath. "Are you all safe and sound?" Of course they did not answer.

"Hallo Gwen!" Gwen looked around and greeted Isabelle, her team colleague as she emerged from their office further down the line of doors. She carried a bucket, a small glass tank and a picker arm and put everything down beside the big tank.

"Aren't you a bit late, _ma chère_?" She waved her hands elegantly in a typical gesture of hers. "Ademarus is a bit … stressed. He needs the results from yesterday's tests, and could not find them."

Gwen nodded, did not elaborate any further and went to Ad's office. Ademarus Hutton was a genius, but when it came to dealing with people, he was a bit odd.

She knocked shortly and entered his tiny office, which was beside hers and Isabelle's. There was one desk and one chair, and the four walls were lined with bookshelves. Gwen was sure Ademarus had read them all and still knew what each and everyone contained. Just now he was comparing a number of charts, making notes with a quill on a piece of parchment. He looked up and pushed his round spectacles up his nose:

"At long last! I need the results of your tests, and could not find them on your desk."

Inside the bookshelves there was a small window in one wall, even though in reality the office was located between the Brain Room and the Death Chamber. It showed some palm trees in front of a sunny bright blue sky. _So Magical Maintenance is obviously trying to humour everyone a bit today_. Gwen and Isabelle had requested the window in their office always showed the real weather, and had got their wish. They both wanted to remain kind of linked to real life – which was difficult enough if you worked in the depths of the Ministry.

"Good morning, Ademarus," piped Gwen and extracted some sheets of parchment from her old leather bag.

They were a bit crumpled, but that disturbed neither her nor Ad, of that she was sure. What counted was the information, not the presentation. That was what their team was agreed upon. Vivi, of course, had quite a different opinion, but then she had a completely different job to do.

Currently Ademarus, Isabelle and Gwendolyn were studying the brains of extremely accomplished Occlumens and Legilimens. Vivi had found them six brains, and all three agreed that it was a very interesting project.

"We all could donate our own brains one day," Isabelle had joked.

All Unspeakables had to have some Occlumentic talent, which was a prerequisite for their top-secret positions.

It had been somewhat difficult to get the brain of a good Legilimens, Vivi had told them. But as always the ingenious Vivi had found "a source", as she called it.


	2. Chapter 2

Ademarus grabbed the sheets and immediately buried his freckled nose in the long columns of numbers and annotations Gwen had completed the day before.

"What a beautiful day!" Gwen said aloud.

"What?" Ademarus raised his head for a moment and looked at her uncomprehendingly. She pointed at his window with the beautiful view. Gwen often tried to involve him in common small-talk, and mostly failed abysmally.

"Ah. Could you please try again brain number 4, there seem to be a lot of discrepancies there, in my opinion." He indicated several lines in one column, and Gwen was amazed once more how quick Ad had detected her flaws.

"All right, I'll fish number four."

Ademarus was their team leader, and used to press them to meet their project deadline, which they regularly failed to do. Nobody in the higher ranks of the Ministry ever complained, since the researchers were regarded as some exotic wizarding species down in the deepest bowels of the Ministry and therefore shown a kind of cautious respect.

Yet the red-haired Ademarus was not only a magicoholic, but also a workoholic. He was always the last to leave in the evening, mostly the first to arrive in the morning, always giving his best. However, he never boasted about it. That was presumably why many people thought he was a bit crazy.

Gwen opened the door to her office. Through the window she could see that in London, as at home, a heavy wind was blowing, driving dark clouds across the sky.

Their office was a bit larger than Ademarus's and contained two desks. Isabelle's desk was tidy like always; there were several orderly stacks of parchments, some quills, some books, and a wizarding photograph of her two children (who were right now playing with a quaffle). Gwen's desk was a mess as usual, and she imagined Ademarus standing in front of it in despair, trying to find her test results.

She put her cloak on a hanger and deposited her leather bag beside her chair. Then she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at her desk. The coffee Isabelle made was very delicious. She felt a bit tired.

She took a sip and threw a glance at the _Daily Prophet _which was lying on top of a heap of parchments, files and letters. There were the usual headlines regarding the hunt of Sirius Black. She frowned. _What's the matter with the Aurors that they can't get him?_ But then, Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban, he must be a very powerful wizard and a real match even for the Aurors. As she wasn't particularly interested in Quidditch, she skipped the articles about the latest World Cup matches, continued flicking through the paper, then closed it and started opening her mail.

Half an hour later she extracted one of the small glass tanks from their wooden cupboard, got some pieces of parchment and a quill, and left the office.

"Are you finished with that picker arm?" she asked Isabelle, who was sitting at one of the desks in the Brain Room with a small glass tank containing brain number three, which she used to call 'Jerôme', in front of her.

"_Oui_, you can use it."

"Hallo Gwendolyn!" Firmin Warrington looked up from his work. His desk held two glass tanks. His project consisted in comparing muggle and wizarding brains. Like Isabelle, he used his wand to carry out some tests, but he was not as deft as her. Sometimes the brain – probably the wizard's brain – seemed to escape from his spell, as if it were trying to flee, but could not due to its constricted encasement.

"Hallo, Firmin." Gwendolyn waved in his direction. "Are you making good progress?"

"Oh, but this is really very difficult," he answered rather vaguely. Tiny drops of sweat showed on his slightly balding forehead. "And you?"

"Have to repeat some tests with 'Ernie'," she explained. "Seems that the results contained some anomalies." Firmin nodded, but was already trying to focus his wand on the brain again.

Gwen took the picker arm out of the bucket where Isabelle had left it and looked for 'Ernie', brain number four, floating in the green liquid. When she had found it, she submerged the small glass tank with the help of the picker arm into the liquid. Its glass cover was open. She extracted her wand, pointed it on Ernie, made it move into the smaller tank, which now was also filled with the green liquid, and closed the cover with a Closing spell. Finally she extracted the smaller tank, put the picker arm back into the bucket and used her wand to Vanish the liquid on the outside of the glass tank and the picker arm.

Then she carried the tank to one of the other desks where she had deposited the quill and the parchments.

Isabelle looked up from her work. "Bob filled up the preservation solution this morning, _n'est-ce pas_?"

"Yep, I saw him. Why do you ask?"

"_Alors_, there is something I do not understand. Our dear little cauliflowers seem to be a bit drowsy today. I wonder whether the concentration of the solution is … correct?"

"Oh!" Gwen looked worried. "No need to start my tests if it is not. I'll ask him."

"_Merci_, that's sweet of you", Isabelle beamed, fluttering her eyelashes playfully. Gwen laughed.

Minutes later Gwen returned with Bob. "What's the matter, girls?" the Tank Manager asked brightly.

Isabelle explained her worries. Bob had a closer look at Jérôme.

"Hm, that's strange, indeed," he admitted.

He rushed to his office, and soon came back laden with some vials, a cauldron, several bottles, flasks and pipettes. He put everything on a free desk, went to the big tank and cautiously took a sample of the solution with the help of a vial and his wand. Then he sat down and began to analyse the sample, muttering under his breath: "Phenol red 8, yep, atenolol and furosemide, 0.83mM and 0.20mM, ok. Fluxweed hem hem, pH at 6.5 ± 0.02, essence of two scarab beetles, correct, osmolality at 290 ± 10 mOsmol/kg, that's fine. No problem here. Let's see, lovage, all right, powdered moonstone …" He went on wagging his head, muttering so low now they could not understand him anymore.

Honoria Brum left her office in her flowing earthy-coloured robes, went to Firmin and asked him something. They talked for a while. When she saw Isabelle and Gwendolyn, obviously waiting instead of working, she joined them for a little chat.

"What's happening? Hi, Gwen, how are you?"

Gwen murmured that she was fine. Isabelle explained the problem she seemed to have encountered with the dozy brains and admired the aquamarine stones Honoria wore.

"Aquamarine opens and balances the throat chakra, thus helping you to express your personal truth and your true feelings." Honoria looked meaningfully at Gwen. "It's one my favourite gems."

"I like it, too", Gwen answered. "What are you doing today?"

Honoria Brum examined brain activity during trances and prophecies. She often used the brains in the tank, but also worked with wizarding people who were able to fall into a trance, or wanted to learn having trances and visions. She held these seminars outside the DoM. Besides she often collaborated with the staff in the Hall of Prophecies.

"I'll meet with a group of witches and wizards to examine their brains during a trance induced by staggering movements," she explained excitedly. "I'll try some monotonous drum music today. The trance per se…"

"Good morning, ladies." Suplinius Crow, clad in his usual black robes, was suddenly standing behind the three witches, having emerged noiselessly out of thin air as was his custom. He had long black hair, a crooked nose, black eyes and a pallid face. "May I ask your help?"

They stopped chatting immediately and turned to Crow, who worked in the adjacent Death Chamber. They knew he studied the process of natural death. Gwen found him a bit creepy sometimes.

"How can we help you, _Monsieur_?" Isabelle asked him in her friendly way, stroking her short brown hair.

"Haven't you developed a method to extract memories from a dead brain?" he asked, looking sullen as ever.

Gwen nodded and Isabelle said proudly: "Yes, indeed, that was a project of ours half a year ago. We succeeded in isolating and conserving memories from some of our brains." She lifted her index finger. "_Alors_, … the brain must be preserved as early as possible after the death of its owner. The process is very difficult, there are several complicated wand movements involved and you need, of course, talent, determination and skill."

_Because if handled wrongly,_ Gwen thought, _they attack you._

Crow said nothing and seemed to ponder about something.

"Could you show me your technique?" he asked finally.

Isabelle and Gwen looked at each other, hesitating. The tension was nearly palpable.

"Why do you need it?" Gwen asked in order to buy time, taking off her glasses and scrutinising them pointedly, as if she'd found a spot on them.

Crow raised an eyebrow. "I do not know whether I can tell you."

Isabelle turned around to look at Bob and hide her irritation. Bob, however, was still analysing the solution, muttering under his breath.

"Mr Crow, you want us to show you a newly developed method pending to be patented, and would not tell us why?" Gwen glowered at him.

Crow drew himself up to his full height. "Miss Bale, you know that the staff of the Death Chamber …"

Bob suddenly cried: "It's the venom from the runespoor fangs. I _knew _it!"

They all turned around, Crow looking haughtily, Isabelle, Honoria and Gwen smiling encouragingly at him.

"I do not know how it could happen, but the venom in this vial has a lower concentration than it should." Bob looked confused and held up a vial containing a shiny green liquid.

"Perhaps you should rather mistrust your own team members and processes than suspect decent Ministry employees," Crow remarked with an acid look at Gwendolyn.

She ignored him.

"I'll have a closer look at this issue," promised Bob, took the sample and part of his vials and things and withdrew to his own office.

Gwen, Isabelle, Honoria, and Crow stood silent for some time.

"Time flies," sighed Gwen, just to break the silence, and looked apologetically at 'Ernie', brain number four, which was still floating lonely and drowsily in the small tank on the desk.

"As regards your showing me this new technique…," commenced Crow once more.

Gwen looked him straight into the eyes. "I know that the different sections of the Department of Mysteries are supposed to cooperate, but I think …"

"I can assure you that I need it for purely internal purposes. Research purposes, of course. And when I'll prepare the corresponding report for the management, I will certainly mention your names." He did not look at her directly, but somewhere over her right shoulder.

"I'd like to confer with my team colleagues first. Excuse me, please." She turned on her heel and strode to Ad's office, Isabelle following in her wake.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	3. Chapter 3

"I hate it when they insinuate that they feel superior to us!" shouted Gwen. As a matter of course Ad had cast a Muffliato spell before they commenced their consultation.

Isabelle smiled, patting her shoulder to calm her. Gwen knitted her hands. She felt like smoking a cigarette, but that was, of course, out of the question; smoking was prohibited in the whole Ministry. There was one smoking room, but it wasn't in the Department of Mysteries.

"Well, they are not," Ad stated matter-of-factly. He went behind his desk, rummaged in one of his files and turned some pages. "Let's see. We are dealing here with a proprietary method…"

He closed the folder with a bang that made Gwen and Isabelle start, took another one out of his shelves and flipped through it. "Here we are," he murmured. "Section 378, Article 42, Confidentiality and Disclosure of Information, Paragraph d) Intra-departmental exchange of confidential information … hem hem hem …" He sat down.

Isabelle and Gwen looked at him, fascinated. Ademarus' lips were moving silently.

At last he lifted his pale face to look up at them as if astonished to find them still standing there.

"Well," he said, "in this specific case, Crow has to obtain the Head of Department's approval." He nodded at them. "We are dealing with an _entirely new method_, a method to isolate, extract, and conserve memories from a conserved brain, in our case. It is proprietary information," he added.

"He would not have to if we had not applied for a patent?" asked Gwen, looking relieved all the same.

"No, I assume not."

"Thanks, Ad."

Gwen and Isabelle left Ademarus' office, but Crow had already left the Brain Room. Bob, the Tank manager, was filling some liquid into the big tank, interrupting his work now and again to take measurements with the help of his wand. Steam emitted from the tank.

"Where is Crow?" Gwen asked Honoria, who was now talking animatedly to Eleanor Dusk. "How are you, Eleanor?"

"Crow has left since he is 'very tied-up at the moment'," Honoria made an effort to imitate Crow's sonorous voice. "He asks you to come to the Death Chamber and 'notify him of the result of your general meeting as soon as you've reached an understanding'."

"I am fine, thanks," Eleanor beamed at Gwen. Her blonde long hair fell like pure gold over her flowing long pink robes. "I am sneaking into the …er … Death Chamber to bring my husband his sandwiches. I put them all in my bag, instead of his."

Eleanor cast her eyes down shyly and Gwen smiled. She liked the younger woman, who had recently married Archibald Dusk, one of the Death Chamber staff members. Her loveliness and beauty seemed to do Archibald a world of good, he looked a lot less gloomy than he used to after his divorce. _Well, the Death Chamber seems to make people a bit sombre. Perhaps Crow should look for a partner, too,_ Gwen thought.

"How are you doing in the Planet Room?" Gwen asked.

"Oh! Fine, I hope!" Eleanor beamed. "But I still have to learn a lot even though I've been working there for more than three months now! I'll tell you later, I must hurry to see Archie and then go back to my working place. Hope to see you at lunch." She waved at both women and rushed to the door leading to the Death Chamber.

Honoria and Gwen looked at each other grinning. "Young love," sighed Honoria, who was some ten years older than Eleanor. "How beautiful!" She looked at her wristwatch. "I must hurry now – have to prepare some things for the trance session." She turned, her flowing robes billowing in her wake.

Gwen went to the desk, where 'Ernie' was still floating lazily inside the small tank. The Brain Room was now devoid of people. Bob had left with some boxes and cases, Isabelle had gone to their office, Ad was still working in his own office, Firmin was nowhere to be seen, either.

Vivi had not returned from her mission in the hospital, and James Croaker was on leave for some weeks. James' job was the analysis of famous witches' and wizards' brains. Currently he examined Adalbert Waffling's brain, which Vivi had procured.

Gwen liked the atmosphere of the empty Brain Room, the silence, the shimmering green liquid in the tank, and its soft occasional gurgle, the bright lamp lights. She took a deep breath.

_Shall I return you to the others?_ she thought looking at 'Earnie', which was still very sleepy. At this moment Bob returned.

"The solution inside the tank has been restored to its usual quality," he informed Gwen. "I am still analysing my vials of runespoor fang venom, some have the usual concentration, but some have not. I do not understand this." He looked worried and stressed. "They are always locked-up and normally nobody can tamper with them."

"Do you mean someone has…?"

"No, no," he said anxiously, "I do not know, I do not want to make accusations."

Gwen took 'Ernie' back to the big tank with the picker arm and released it inside so it could be restored to its usual "good humour". She'd fish it again later. She informed Bob of what she'd done, so he could adapt the solution again, since the transfer from the smaller to the big tank involved the entry of some of the former contaminated solution. He sighed and nodded.

She wanted to go to the Death Chamber and have a word with Crow.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen opened the door leading to the Death Chamber. After the brightness of the Brain Room with its series of lamps hanging low on golden chains, the large rectangular Death Chamber was very gloomy. It was only dimly lit, and its cold air made Gwen shiver slightly. She looked down at the ancient stone archway that stood, unsupported by any surrounding wall, on a stone dais raised in the middle of a sunken stone pit. She steeled herself. It was not the first time that she had entered the Death Chamber and she knew about the tattered black veil that hung in the archway fluttering slightly even though the air was so quiet in here. She could hear those soft voices behind the veil, and felt their attraction. She did not descend the steep steps towards the pit, but remained on the highest level.

She looked at the doors and wondered which one lead to Crow's office. Two men emerged from one door, one, in his sixties, was slender and tall and wore a short white beard, the other was a black, tall, muscular wizard with spectacles and black hair in his forties. Both were talking in low voices. Gwen knew Alex Campbell, and Ivo Gilmour. They and Mercia Borthwick formed a team and were concerned with the study of afterlife.

"Excuse me, Mr Campbell, Mr Gilmour," Gwen addressed them. "Could you please tell me where I can find Mr Crow."

"I suppose he is in his office," replied Ivo Gilmour with his deep voice. He looked at her, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. "It is the second door right here." He pointed to one of the line of doors on Gwen's right side.

"Thank you," she said. She'd never have found it alone. There were no names at any of the doors and the line of doors continued on the other wall.

~ooOOoo~

"I see."

That was all Suplinius Crow said, his lips curling in a faint sneer, when Gwen had told him that the Head of Department had to give her approval.

Gwen folded her arms. Silence fell like a heavy cloak. She just stared at him, not daring to look around leisurely in his meticulously tidy office. Everything seemed to be straight and correct in here. A screen in the centre shielded the rest of the room from curious looks.

"Well," Crow looked at her and stood up. "Then I'll go and ask her. I'll approach you and your team as soon as she gives her approval."

Gwen nodded, turned around and left Crow's office.

She wondered whether Agatha Hill would give her consent. Surely she would ask Crow why he needed to learn the new technique, and he would not dare not to tell _her._ When Agatha Hill looked at you with her sharp steel-blue eyes, you would not try to withhold the truth. But then, Crow seemed to be a really superb occlumens, Gwen thought. After having studied the subject with the help of 'Earnie' (and some other brains) for some time, she could tell by now.

She looked for some instants at the veil, fascinated by its fluttering and the soft voices that seemed to call her. She and Isabelle had often wondered why they heard those voices, while Ademarus, for instance, did not. There were rumours, only those who had been with someone who died could hear them, others ascribed the voices to a particularly high sensivity, others argued it depended whether one believed in an afterlife, or not, and those who did could hear the voices. The Death Chamber staff, as usual, maintained their silence. She rubbed her arms to warm them.

Then she saw Alex Campbell emerging from his office. He extracted his wand and started descending the stairs to the Arch. When he noticed Gwen, he stopped and waited silently until she left the chilly chamber.

~ooOOoo~

Back in her usual working place she blinked at the sudden brightness, and took a deep breath of relief.

"_Ah bon, _there you are. What did Crow say?" asked Isabelle eagerly, when she caught sight of Gwen. She was busy working with Jérôme and Dolly, the latter being a brain with no occlumentic or legilimentic abilities whatsoever, scribbling something on a sheet of parchment.

"He was not overly excited when I told him he needed Hill's consent, but he's going to ask her," Gwen informed her colleague.

Isabelle nodded. "So that's cleared, then. Hem, _t'sais, _I think I found the place in the brain where the legilimency happens. There is a small area inside the legilimens' brain that is more _active_ than the one of a – let's say – normal wizard. I don't know whether this is either congenital or acquired. Anyway, this area seems to be activated as soon as you put it in front of a person, or even in front of …er… another brain."

Isabelle pointed to an area somewhat down on the backside of the brain.

Gwen looked at her with interest. Up to now she had been examining the Occlumentic brains, and Isabelle the Legilimentic ones, but they always discussed their work and theories amongst themselves and with Ad.

At this instant Ademarus left his office, and joined them at their table in the Brain Room. Isabelle told him about her findings, and he nodded earnestly.

"Does it matter whether you expose the brain to someone with Occlumentic abilities?" he asked her thoughtfully.

"Yes, indeed. When I put it in front of a non-Occlumens – that is Dolly, in our case – and use the Measuring spell, I can determine a rise in energy, which remains steady," Isabelle replied. "But if I put it in front of an Occlumens, I can measure just a short peak of activity, a sudden drop, and then nothing more."

"Perhaps this part of the Legilimentic brain is able to receive waves … waves containing images or something like this," Gwen blurted out.

"Well," Ad looked at her, "what an idea! What makes you say that? Waves – that sounds quite Mugglish." He shook his head. "Anyway, I have to leave for a while, Agatha Hill wants to see me about this Crow business. Let's discuss this topic later on."

Gwen and Isabelle watched him leaving, they could tell he did not like to abandon his work. They resumed their debate.

"Waves?" Isabelle looked at Gwen, puzzled.

"Well, it _is _a Muggle concept. I read an article about brain activity in a Muggle magazine the other day," Gwen shrugged. "They talk about waves." She took a quill and drew a wave on a piece of parchment. "They say, there are different types of waves, alpha, beta, theta and delta waves and so on."

"_J'vais voir_," Isabelle mused. "I'll see what I can do. Perhaps you can show me this article? How are you doing with your Occlumentic brains?"

"Oh, I've made similar tests to identify activity, but as Ernie shows some anomalies, I have to repeat some of them. Yet up to now, everything points to the same area you showed me. Isn't that a bit strange?"

~ooOOooOOooOOoo~


	4. Chapter 4

At about one o'clock Isabelle and Gwen entered the Circular Room. Gwen opened the door bearing the blue inscription "Cenaculum". Gwen suddenly felt her stomach rumble, she was really hungry now.

They entered the bright staff restaurant with its vast windows showing a beautiful spring day. The sky was forget-me-not-blue, the sun was shining, and white clouds were drifting by lazily. A meadow with yellow, white and purple crocuses could be seen in the distance. Gwen rolled her eyes. Crocuses in April!

But it was, after all, a far nicer idea than Cornelius Fudge's big photograph, hanging on the wall, and bearing the motivating motto: "There are no mysteries the wizarding world couldn't solve!" Several weeks ago someone had scribbled "not even why he wears such a funny hat" beneath it, but Magical Maintenance had removed the writing shortly after its appearance, and, later on, the photograph altogether.

Honoria beckoned at them. Her brown hair was even wilder than usual. She was eating a mountain of salad that looked delicious. Beside her sat Timothy Oakden, who worked in the Death Chamber on ghosts (and inferi, as some people whispered). With his open, weather-beaten face, broad chin and blond hair he looked like the average seaman, but certainly not like a member of the Death Chamber staff. He laughed heartily at a comment Honoria had made.

"Purple," squeaked Isabelle pointing at the chairs. Maintenance always tried to adapt the colour of the furniture to the fancy weather of the windows, and today the chairs were obviously meant to match with the crocuses.

Gwen nodded grimly. She wondered what people like Crow thought of purple chairs and yellow place mats on purple tables. But, luckily, she could not see him anywhere.

Bob, Firmin and Ademarus were sitting at a table nearby, deep in conversation. Bob was waving his big hands, and Ad seemed to try to shush him. Gwen had the impression that Bob was telling Ad and Firmin about the problem he had encountered with the preservation solution in the tank. Isabelle waved at them with her charming smile.

They approached Honoria and Timothy Oakden.

"Hello, Honoria," said Gwen, "hope you're enjoying your salad. How was the seminar?"

Honoria beamed with enthusiasm: "It was great." She lowered her voice: "At first they had some difficulties with the movements, I mean – staggering on purpose is a bit awkward – but then they got used to it and most of them fell into a pretty deep trance." She looked very satisfied with herself. "T'was a lot of work, though, ten people falling into trance – ten cushioning charms at nearly the same time. It was difficult to do the measurements. I need an assistant urgently."

Isabelle and Gwen laughed and went to the counter to get their food, Isabelle went for the salad, too, while Gwen preferred spaghetti Bolognese with a lot of Parmesan cheese on top. The counter offered an extensive variety of food, and the house-elves working behind it were eager to fulfill any wish the DoM staff might have.

With the help of a hovering spell they moved their trays laden with plates, cutlery, and tumblers full of pumpkin juice back to the table, where Roberta Dunphy had joined Honoria, and Timothy Oakden. When Isabelle and Gwen sat down opposite Honoria and Timothy, Roberta greeted them in her usual friendly way, then resumed her animated conversation with Timothy Oakden.

Gwen stared at her. Roberta worked in the Time Room. She was about 30 years old, had short black hair, and startlingly grey eyes. She wore very sportive clothes, and had her own Hippogriff because she liked riding. She, too, was eating a salad. Isabelle nudged Gwen in the ribs.

"Oi, why was that?" Gwen complained.

"You'd better close your mouth, or you might catch nargles," whispered Isabelle giggling.

Gwen looked at her with dignity.

At this moment, Manisha Cullen appeared at her back with a plate of chicken tikka and rice and asked Timothy in her velvet voice: "Is this seat taken?" Her red lips parted into a cool smile, showing dazzlingly white teeth.

Gwen could tell that Roberta did not like it very much that the black-haired Manisha talked to Timothy, who laughed good-naturedly, and invited her to sit down with them. Manisha was a colleague of Timothy's, yet not a Ministry employee. She researched on rebirth and reincarnation, and her position was sponsored by Dr Rajesh Daryapurkar, a Hindi millionaire. Besides financing the research project he certainly had had to pay a lot for obtaining approval to station Manisha inside the DoM, and use the Arch.

Manisha looked at Roberta with her big long-lashed black eyes, then turned to Timothy.

"How are you, Tim? I have not seen you all morning. I was so absorbed in my work." She sighed, and took up the rice with the help of some bread, her shiny red fingernails flashing.

Then Eleanor, from the Planet Room, arrived, accompanied by her husband. Archibald Dusk was a short wizard clad in black robes, his hair was dark brown with some streaks of grey. When he smiled, a lot of tiny wrinkles crinkled at the corners of his soft eyes.

"Can we sit with you?" Eleanor asked in a soft voice.

"Of course," said Honoria, beaming at her. Eleanor sat beside Honoria while Archibald took the seat beside Gwen. While Manisha asked Timothy about his wife, Roberta looking daggers at her, Honoria began to chat with Eleanor. Gwen took her eyes off Roberta, and silently continued eating her spaghetti.

"So how are you doing in the Planet Room, Eleanor? You couldn't tell us this morning."

"Ah, fine, I hope" she answered again. "At the moment they make me mark the planets."

"Mark them?" Isabelle asked curiously.

"Yes," she said lowering her voice as Honoria had done before. They were all supposed to not talk too openly about their work, yet they did so to a certain extent in their own staff restaurant, and with a reasonable amount of discretion.

"When a star explodes in the universe, they make me fly to the respective model of the star, you know, and I mark it, so they can make it explode in their universe model, too. And when a new star is born, I have to go there and mark the spot, so they can let it grow there."

"How do you do that?" Gwen's interest was also aroused.

"I fly there with a broom. A special broom. But I think I should not tell you anymore now." She looked at them uncertainly.

"Yes, my dear, I think you should leave it at that," agreed her husband who had not contributed to the conversation until now. He continued eating his potatoes.

To fill in the sudden silence Honoria brought up the topic of the Sirius Black hunt, and the Aurors who couldn't find the fugitive, and all joined in eagerly.

~ooOOoo~

Timothy was the first to leave, he had to go to the Spirit Division on Level Four. Roberta left shortly afterwards, while Manisha asked Gwen whether she fancied a smoke with her in the smoking room, which was also on Level Four.

Gwen looked astonished, since apart from the usual polite formalities Manisha had never talked to her a lot. Gwen usually went there with James Croaker, the only other smoker in the Brain Room, but he was on leave. She hesitated. She had not made a lot of progress with Ernie, and should have another go at it now. On the other hand, it might be an interesting step towards intra-departmental communication, if she went with Manisha – and she really fancied a smoke. So she agreed.

~ooOOooOOooOOoo~

The cool female voice made its usual announcement for the fourth level as Manisha and Gwen got out and headed for the smoking room. On their way, a heavily-built wizard with small piercing eyes and a black moustache passed them and gave Manisha a nod. She nodded back, rather unwillingly.

"Who was that?" asked Gwen, unable to repress her curiosity.

"Walden Macnair, he works for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures," Manisha answered somewhat reluctantly, stroking her black hair.

"Oh – one cannot always chose one's position," replied Gwen doubtfully, but did not dare ask Manisha why she knew Macnair. Manisha suddenly grinned at her. "Sure."

"Here we are." Manisha opened the door and they entered the only smoking room of the Ministry of Magic.

Several witches and wizards were standing or sitting around little round tables with full ashtrays. The air was thick with smoke from cigarettes and cigars. House-elves served coffee, tea, and pumpkin juice. Gwen recognised Vivi, who was talking to a tall red-haired wizard Gwen didn't know, while Manisha returned Evelyn Anderson's greeting.

Another Death Chamber staff member, Evelyn worked on poisons and potions. Her position was partly sponsored by the _Wallace and Avalon Apothecary. _The plump witch with the long brown hair joined them while Manisha lit her cigarette with a small Incendio spell.

"Good afternoon, Manisha," Evelyn beamed. "And you're Gwendolyn Bale, aren't you?"

"Yes," Gwen answered. She couldn't say anymore, since outside the DoM they were not allowed to talk about their work. "You're Evelyn Anderson, I know." They shook hands.

The three stood together companionably, smoking, blowing blue rings into the fumy air, observing other people, and talking about the weather, the Black hunt, and Quidditch. Manisha seemed to be a real fan and plunged into a profound analysis as to why the Toyohoshi Tengu, the Japanese team, had narrowly lost against Lithuania. Evelyn nodded at her comments, but didn't seem to know as much about Quidditch as Manisha did. She pointed at a witch nearby.

"That's Bertha Jorkins, isn't it?" she whispered.

Gwen didn't know, but Manisha nodded: "Yes, that's her, but what does she want here? She does not smoke."

"She's become rather forgetful recently," Evelyn giggled under her breath. "She's now in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I heard she's changed departments quite often, I think no one really wants to work with her."

Gwen did not say anything. She was careful with people who gossiped about others so freely. "How long will you be with us, by the way?" she heard herself asking suddenly.

Evelyn looked at her, grinning. "Oh, I think I will stay for a longer time, since the Ministry is also very interested in my studies," she beamed, but did not, of course, elaborate.

Bertha Jorkins had left the smoking room by now, evidently realising that she didn't belong there.

After a while Vivi joined the three of them, and after some companionable ten minutes of discussing the poor ventilation of the smoking room ("why don't we try a ventilation charm?") they all left to return to their department.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

In the evening Isabelle and Gwen were on their way to the gilded fireplaces in the Atrium. When they stopped in front of a right-hand side fireplace, Gwen slapped herself on the forehead.

"I forgot to get floo powder _again_," she moaned.

"Never mind, take some of mine," Isabelle laughed, offering Gwen her beautiful beige-coloured silk pouch.

"But I forgot it yesterday, and I will need some tomorrow to come here."

Gwen had half a mind to return to the lifts.

"_Mais non, _just take some more from mine so you'll have enough for tomorrow. Then tomorrow morning first thing you'll go to the FNA. Don't you worry. You've just told me you are going to visit your neighbours now, you don't want to keep them waiting."

Gwen sighed and accepted the offered floo powder.

"You're an angel, you know."

"Maybe," Isabelle beamed at her.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Coming home was lovely. Napoleon greeted her as was his custom, rubbing his head against her legs, and miaowing loudly.

"Hi Nap," she answered smiling, bending over to pat his back.

In the hallway she put her violet cloak on a hanger and went to the kitchen to give him some cat-food.

Wookey, the house-elf, had obviously cleaned the kitchen, prepared some tea, and lit the coal-furnace before Gwen returned home. This evening Wookey wasn't here to cook Gwen's dinner, since she helped Miss Carthew, who had invited Gwen and Hugh. Wookey served not only Gwen, but all the three neighbours of this settlement. Since neither of them needed a house-elf for their own, they had decided to share the services of one house-elf, and Wookey was very content with the arrangement. She had a tiny room in Miss Carthew's cottage, since it was the biggest of the three.

Gwen dropped into Napoleon's favourite chair to relax for a while. She put her feet onto a small stool and sipped her tea. When Napoleon finished his dinner, he immediately jumped onto her lap purring like a small Diesel engine. She began stroking his black fur.

After she had finished her tea she changed her robes, combed her curls, and left her cottage, while Nap glared at her with indignation when she said goodbye to him.

Outside she took a deep breath. She loved the air smelling of salt and the sound of the waves breaking against the rocks.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	5. Chapter 5

"Ahhh – here she is!" Miss Carthew opened the door smiling. "So nice you could make it, my dear. How are you? Do come in, please."

The old lady led her through the hallway into her cosy dining room with the flowered wallpaper, where Hugh was already sitting on one of the old-fashioned chairs. Hugh got up to welcome her.

Gwen greeted him and sat onto one of the chairs. The table was already laid, and Gwen admired Miss Carthew's Staffordshire plates for the umpteenth time, when Wookey came in, bowed and served dinner – roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with beans, roast potatoes and gravy.

They usually did not talk much during Miss Carthew's dinners. They enjoyed the food, and the peace.

Afterwards they changed to the parlour, where Miss Carthew and Gwen sipped a sherry, Gwen smoked a cigarette, and Hugh took a firewhiskey. A fire was crackling in the chimney, and its cheerful glow lighted Miss Carthew's wispy white hair.

"Yesterday, I went to Tinworth to buy some ingredients I need to brew my rheumatism salve, which I have done today," Miss Carthew told them. "This rainy weather is a challenge for my poor back and knees. I hope I'll be better soon, it is high time for the spring pruning." Her green eyes sparkled.

Gwen smiled. Miss Carthew loved her roses, and, though slightly rheumatic, was happiest when she could garden, and the result was really breathtaking. Muggles wouldn't understand how she succeeded in growing such beautiful roses on the sandy stony soil by her cottage, but she used, of course, also a bit of magic on them.

"What's new with you, Hugh?"

Hugh shrugged. "Got a big job today. 'bout twenty children's broomsticks from a day nursery. Require a complete overhaul. Better than buying new ones."

Hugh Kendall was a freelance broomstick manufacturer and repairer. He got jobs from all over Britain and Ireland, and was a very versatile craftsman.

He took a gulp of firewhiskey.

"The children were eager to know how long it'd take me to repair their brooms. They don't fly high, of course, but nevertheless they love riding them." He chuckled. "I'll have to hurry with this job."

Gwen and Hugh had known each other from Tutshill since they had been children. They had lost contact several years ago, when first Gwen had gone to London, then later Hugh had moved to this place to be able to help his brother Joshua once in while. When Gwen had looked for a new peaceful home about a year ago, he had offered her to help refurbish the empty cottage next door.

Hugh got up with a satisfied grunt, and said: "I'll have a look at this dripping tap of yours."

"But not now, my dear! There will be time for that another day."

"Na', Miss Carthew, don't you worry. With this," he showed her his brand-new magical adjustable wrench, and a tin of sparkling fitting grease, "it'll be no problem at all, I'll be back in a jiffy. Just have to check what kind of seal you need." He put everything in his tool box and left the room.

The old lady sat down again, sighing: "What would we do without our good Hugh?"

Gwen nodded appreciatively.

"And what's new with you, my dear?" Miss Carthew asked, while taking up her usual needlework.

As Miss Carthew had worked in the DoM when she had been younger, Gwen was at ease to talk shop with her once in a while.

"Hem, there was a problem with the liquid in the brain tank," she whispered, looking at the door. "And Bob detected …that a certain ingredient was diluted."

Miss Carthew looked up. "Something toxic?" she asked shrewdly.

Gwen nodded. "Yep. But he is investigating, he is usually very careful and diligent, so he'll find out soon enough." She sipped her sherry.

Miss Carthew cocked her head. Gwen couldn't deceive her, she looked worried.

"Hem. But maybe it's just an error by the manufacturer of the runespoor venom," Miss Carthew mused.

Gwen gaped at her. "How do you know that it was…?"

"Oh," she smiled, "there aren't so many toxic ingredients in that liquid. And when I worked for the Department many many years ago, we, too, had that problem. The runespoor is a three-headed snake, but only the venom from the right head's fangs is poisonous. So if the manufacturer takes the wrong fangs …" She didn't finish her sentence, but just held up her hands.

"Oh! I'll tell Bob." Gwen looked relieved. Perhaps that was indeed the solution to the mystery?

"Apart from that they are all talking about the Sirius Black hunt," she told her.

At precisely that moment Hugh re-entered the room. He caught her last sentence.

"It's the same in town." 'Town' meant Tinworth. "They talk about that everywhere." 'They', again, meant the wizarding community there.

"I am starting to admire Black for escaping that flock of Aurors who are behind him." He scratched his beard. Gwen gave a laugh since she had been thinking along the same lines.

Miss Carthew thanked him profusely for his work, but he waved it off, smiling.

"One of the nursery school teachers was particularly nervous since somebody had written to the _Tinworth Daily _affirming they'd seen Black some miles from Tinworth in an abandoned mine. I can't believe it." He shook his head. "Probably only seen some mad pixies," he added.

They all laughed. Miss Carthew offered more sherry and firewhiskey, which they accepted gladly.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Wednesday, 20 April 1994_

Gwendolyn woke early and sat up in her bed, surprised. Through the window opposite her she could see the first greyish streaks at the horizon, the sun had not risen yet. She shuddered and drew the blanket up to her shoulders. In the dimness she groped for her round red alarmclock. "Five o'clock," it whispered. "Go on sleeping if you like." She was not an early riser, but this morning she felt wide awake.

After listening for a while to the sound of the waves crushing against the cliffs in the distance, she took her glasses from the bedside locker, and put them on. She rolled her shoulders, for they felt a bit stiff, then got up and put on her purple dressing gown.

Still shivering slightly she went to the kitchen to light a fire in the furnace with a flick of her wand, and put on the kettle, before she went to the bathroom. Napoleon had not returned yet, he probably was still hunting mice outside.

When she returned the kitchen was comfortably warm, and the water in the kettle was boiling. She prepared her tea, and extracted a stack of tarot cards from a dark-blue satin pouch, which was lying on her cupboard. Honoria had introduced her and Isabelle in the art of cartomancy some months ago, and since then she 'practised' every morning, drawing one card for the day. At Hogwarts she had never taken Divination, so it was all new and exciting for her.

"Page of Swords," she whispered. She meditated for a while, sipping her tea, looking at the card showing a young man holding a sword in both hands. On a whim she assumed the Page's pose. _It feels like defending yourself. Like being on the alert. Ready to protect yourself._

Then in spite of being up early she felt suddenly hungry. She prepared some eggs and bacon, and buttered some scones. Napoleon, who had probably smelled the food, entered through the cat flap and miaowed loudly.

They both took an early breakfast. Gwen enjoyed the beautiful colours of the the sunrise, which she could see through her kitchen window. She wondered whether she should make use of the early hour and get some tidying up done, but then opted against this idea, and started to flick through the _Tinworth Daily_ Hugh had lent her yesterday night.

At eight o'clock she decided to leave for work. Being early for once would make a good impression, especially after having been a bit late yesterday, she thought grinning.

Remembering the card she had drawn she put on her rock crystal pendant before she took her violet cloak, her leather bag, and her wand. It might be useful today.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen resumed her tests with Ernie, but the results were nearly the same as before. She was verifying and comparing the long rows of figures, when Ad came out of his office. He did not show the slightest surprise at seeing Gwen as early as eight o'clock in the morning.

"Morning Gwendolyn," he said in a hurry. "Could you do me a favour? Mr Crow got Mrs Hill's permission to be introduced in our Extracting method, I mean our technique to extract memories from a conserved brain. Could you please show him how to do that? I have to help Isabelle with the _Indicimaginis _spell, it is not stable and she can't do it alone."

Gwen looked at him in horror. "Me? Couldn't I help her with the spell? It was, after all, my idea, I mean – looking for images within a wave…"

"That's true, but I am the best at casting this spell. We developed it two years ago to show images _inside_ a brain, without the need of a pensieve. Do you know how it works?"

Gwen shook her head. "Just the basics. But I will learn it," she tried feebly.

"Yeah, we'll show you one of these days. But meanwhile…," he opened his arms apologetically.

Gwen sighed and nodded. "All right, I'll do it. But not this morning. I promised Vivi to meet that Maguire prospect."

"Do you work with Vivi now?" Ad raised his eyebrows in astonishment.

"No, of course not, but he seems a tough guy, and she wanted some support to convince him. He's from Tutshill, where I was born, so she thought it would be a good idea to bring me into the deal. He owns a lot of medieval clocks. Roberta from the Time Room is coming, too." She did not want to say the last sentence, but couldn't stop herself.

"Is that a priority?" Ad interrupted her, obviously appalled.

"I … think so. And, apart from that, I promised her a week ago. The meeting is this morning. I can't help it."

"Ok. I'll inform Mr Crow that you'll meet him in the afternoon, all right?"

Gwen nodded her approval. She'd tell Ademarus about the renewed abnormal results later. _No need to upset him even more. _

When Bob Warnock turned up with a big bottle full of violet liquid, and a new brain in a small tank, she got up to tell him about Miss Carthew's theory of the wrong runespoor fangs.

He looked at her with interest. "Yes, that's a good idea. That would explain why some vials had the correct concentration and others had not. I thought of that, too, but it's difficult to prove."

He scratched his brown hair. "Thanks anyway, Gwen. Perhaps I'll talk to Evelyn Anderson from the Death Chamber, she knows a lot about poisons. But then, I do not know whether she can keep silence…" He bit his lips and even blushed a little. Gwen grinned as she remembered Evelyn's gossiping in the smoking room.

"Yes, I see. But remember that Suplinius Crow was here, too."

Bob looked at her. "That's true. But he is not the chatty type."

Gwen nodded: "Certainly not."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	6. Chapter 6

Time went by like nothing. At about nine Isabelle and Honoria had entered the Brain Room together, chatting animatedly about brain twisters, Isabelle in anthracite clothes, inconspicuously elegant as always, and Honoria in her flowing robes. They both greeted her, then hurried to their respective rooms to prepare for the day.

Gwen was cleaning up her table after she'd put Ernie back into the green liquid, when Isabelle came to tell her about Ad and the _Indicimaginis_ spell, and Gwen informed her about her appointment with Vivi and Roberta, and her afternoon appointment with Crow. They had a cup of Isabelle's excellent coffee while Gwen grumbled a bit about wanting to learn the spell, and definitely not wanting to work with Crow.

Isabelle laughed and commiserated with her: "I really don't envy you. But he seems to be the clever type, and will learn the technique soon enough, so you can return here."

"What do you mean – return here?" Gwen stared at her.

"_Eh bien _– he wanted you to go to the Death Chamber. That's where you'll work with him."

Before Gwen could protest Vivi appeared in a wave of expensive perfume, her claret-coloured dragonhide briefcase under her arm. "Here you are! Off we go! Roberta lends us her hippogriff. Cool, isn't it?"

Gwen nodded. "Will we all sit on it?"

"No, just you and me, Roberta won't come with us. She just lends us her pet."

"Why?" Gwen couldn't hide her disappointment.

"Something about a hearing she wants to attend."

Gwen took her cloak, leather bag, and wand and followed Vivi in her cloud of perfume. Dressed in a brilliantly white tunic over pure white linen pants, Vivi took long strides to reach the Circular Room where they met Roberta Dunphy, nervously chewing gum, and the blond Timothy Oakden, who carried a bronze magic lamp, which clattered slightly in his hand.

"Hallo, you two," Roberta kept on chewing. "So sorry, I can't go with you, but there will be a hearing before the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. They consider the fate of a hippogriff from Hogwarts called Buckbeak. They say he hurt a student, which is hard to believe since Rubeus Hagrid, the gamekeeper, is a very competent man as far as I know. I hope they will sort it out."

"He is very good with creatures," said Gwen, remembering Hagrid from her school-days. "I hope the hippo will be fine." Roberta smiled weakly. She surely loved hippogriffs a lot.

"Is that a magic lamp with a djinn?" Vivi looked at the rattling lamp questioningly.

"I hope so," Timothy laughed, bowed slightly and tapped his forehead, before he left through the door that led to the Death Chamber.

The three women hurried to one the lifts and went as high as Level One. "Level One, Minister for Magic and Support Staff," the cool disembodied female voice announced. The golden grilles opened to a wood-panelled thickly carpeted corridor. Yet instead of following the long corridor, Roberta opened the next door on the right side that gave way to a gleaming white staircase with one window showing a bright blue sky and cotton-wool clouds.

They climbed up one flight of stairs, where Roberta opened a wooden door to a great hall flooded with sunlight, where different magical creatures were accommodated. Gwen could see some thestrals, several hippogriffs, a small dragon, a lot of owls, and even an Aethonon winged horse. Roberta guided them to a large bay, where a chestnut Hippogriff was standing. They kept their distance.

"This is Amber Dancer," she introduced him proudly. "Now, show me how you approach a hippogriff, girls."

Gwen and Vivi nodded, they all maintained eye contact with the beast. Then they bowed and waited. Gwen was a bit nervous, but did not want Roberta to notice. Amber Dancer looked at them with an unfathomable expression, and finally bowed in return.

Roberta went to him immediately and patted him on the neck. Gwen and Vivi followed her a bit more slowly, and stroked Amber Dancer shyly. Roberta helped them to get up and sit on the hippogriff, Vivian in front, Gwen behind her, clinging to Vivi. Headcollar in hand, her colleague guided them through a long dark corridor which led steadily upwards until they reached a platform. She performed a Disillusionment charm on herself, her hippogriff, Vivi, and Gwen, who shuddered, then pointed her wand at the platform, which started to run upwards driven by invisible strings. Above them a roller shutter opened. They went out. Gwen held her breath. They were suddenly standing on a muggle schoolyard, but there were no children. They were obviously in class.

"Have fun," Roberta beamed, and Gwen wasn't sure whether she was talking to them, or to Amber Dancer. Vivi took the reins.

"Thanks Roberta, we'll be all right," Vivi reassured her. "I hope the other hippogriff will be acquitted."

Gwen held on more tightly. Amber Dancer took off and spread his wings while Roberta waved them good-bye, smiling. At the sudden movement Gwen felt her stomach lurch, and forced a smile in return.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Some hours later, when they returned from their visit to Tutshill and landed on the still empty schoolyard, Gwen felt a bit tired and lit a cigarette, while Vivi, who was very confident in handling Roberta's hippogriff, patted Amber Dancer's neck.

Gwen had always considered herself a bad small-talker, but Vivi insisted that she had been a big help, and their visit a great success, pointing at the box full of hour-glasses, candle clocks, and oil lamps.

"But I did not get his jokes about the Holyhead Harpies and the Tutshill Tornados," Gwen groaned, inhaling the blue smoke.

"Never mind, he laughed at them a lot," Vivi grinned, waving the smoke away lazily.

Gwen could not even remember how Vivi had succeeded in bringing the topic to Tutshill. She had felt awkward as always when trying to ask a complete stranger questions, but Vivi was brilliant in leading the conversation wherever she wanted to. So Maguire and Gwen had reminisced about their home village on the bank on the River Wye, the watchtower, and the Forest of Dean. Finally, Maguire had sold them what Vivi needed at a reasonable price.

Vivi pointed her wand at the platform to lower it, while Gwen trod out her cigarette, and made it vanish with an Evanesco spell. They performed the reverse Disillusionment charm and brought Amber Dancer back to his bay.

Gwen's stomach gave a rumble. As Vivi first wanted to store her booties, Gwen went alone to the Cenaculum. Today the windows looked onto a snowy mountain landscape. Gwen went to the counter to get some plaice and chips, and then joined Isabelle, Firmin and Ademarus, who were sitting together on a dazzlingly white table.

While Firmin and Ad were discussing the latest news about Sirius Black, Isabelle turned to Gwen and whispered: "_T'sais_, I really like your idea that legilimency might have got to do with receiving _waves, _or – let's say – any form of an _energy flow _that transfers the images from the legilimented person's mind. _Alors, _muggles describe their brain waves only inside the brain, as a kind of …" she hesitated to pronounce the Muggle word correctly – "_electrical _power. But perhaps we can prove that there are other types of waves, external ones. Ad and I made some tests with our _Indicimaginis _spell. You know, that's the spell we developed to make thoughts and images visible, without having to use a pensieve." Gwen nodded. Ad had told her before.

"It seems to work! But it needs some improvement before we can use it in this context. When I used it during the Legilimency actions, it was not stable. Nevertheless for a fraction of a second we succeeded in making one image visible outside the brain that sent them. Isn't that marvellous!" She beamed.

"_Eh bien_, so we still haven't proved that the image moves in the form of a wave, but _if_ I succeed in making it visible several times in a row, and then monitor its entire trajectory, we might be able to see in which way it moves!"

Gwen shovelled the last bit of fish into her mouth, frowning.

"Oh, I really envy you. Do you want to hear what a morning I had? First I had to ride this hippogriff, and Roberta wasn't even coming along."

Isabelle grinned, her eyes twinkling.

"Then we had this rather boring conversation with a collector of medieval clocks," Gwen yawned, " and now I have to face Crow. Please bring me a pudding, my dear, I need a treat." Isabelle laughed good-naturedly and went to the counter to get their desserts.

When Gwen and Isabelle left the Cenaculum they met Roberta in the Circular Room. Timothy and Honoria were with her, Tim was patting her on the back, while Honoria looked full of sympathy, trying to find consoling words. Roberta looked up at Isabelle and Gwen, and said indignantly: "You won't believe it! They sentenced the hippogriff to death! They're going to execute him in June! This horrible Walden Macnair will to do it."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwendolyn opened the door to the Death Chamber, deep in thought about Roberta's anger about ignorant hippogriff haters, and Honoria trying to console her, explaining about the option of an appeal, and a possible subsequent acquittal.

"Good day to you," a dark velvety voice said suddenly. Gwen whirled around and met Manisha Cullen's round black eyes. "What leads you to our section?" She smiled, her brilliantly white teeth flashing.

"I am looking for Mr Crow," Gwendolyn replied, looking over her shoulder and trying to remember which door led to Crow's office.

"I'll show you the way," Manisha offered. "What a beautiful pendant you're wearing." She pointed on the white gem, glimmering softly in the dimly lit Chamber.

"Oh, that's just a rock crystal," Gwen murmured. "it clears mind, soul and body. How are you doing?"

"Splendidly. This morning I had contact with a soul who affirms to have been Louis XIII, and awaits its reincarnation in France."

Gwen raised her eyebrows: "Indeed?"

"I must, of course, check some historical details. It seems rather conspicuous that so many of them affirm to be a celebrity," Manisha sighed. "From a statistical point of view there are comparatively few rank and file souls."

Gwen smiled, not knowing what to say.

Archibald Dusk, the young blonde Eleanor's husband, came along accompanied by an ascetic-looking wizard of about fifty years of age in perfectly ironed clothes, who had a straight parting and wore horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Hallo Gwendolyn," Archibald greeted her. "I assume you already know Jacobus Mayfield, my team colleague?"

Gwen nodded and they shook hands. "I am going to work with Mr Crow this afternoon," she informed them, wondering what Archibald's and Jacobus' work was.

"May you do well," Mayfield said a bit stiffly. He held a beautiful goblet in one gloved hand.

Manisha led her on to Suplinius Crow's office, Archibald and Mayfield entered the office next-door.

"Enter," a voice said after Gwen had knocked at the door, and she followed the invitation.

"Ah, Miss Bale, good afternoon," the dark-clad wizard stood up and beckoned her to sit down.

"Good afternoon, Mr Crow. I am here since you asked our team to show you our method of isolating and conserving memories from a preserved brain."

"Who of your team is going to show me your method?" Suplinius Crow asked, seemingly uninformed.

"I am," answered Gwen.

Crow cocked up one eyebrow: "Could not Mr Hutton…."

"I am completely capable of showing you our method, having been one of the developers," said Gwen impatiently. She drew herself up, and suddenly felt like bearing a sword. It felt good.

Crow scowled, but nodded.

"Well, then, let's waste no time." With a flick of his wand, he moved the screen to one side. A medium-sized tank was standing on an elongated table. Gwen had a sudden inkling that the table usually served other purposes. A pearly white brain was swimming lazily inside the familiar green liquid.

"I thought you could show me your method with this brain, which Miss Gregorius was so kind to procure for me as a subject of experiment." Crow pointed at the tank, and Gwen asked herself whether she would ever be informed what his true intentions were.

"Could we have a better lamp?" she asked, shivering slightly. Crow's office was as cold as the Death Chamber itself.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen returned home in the evening and collapsed into the cosy sofa in her sitting room. Nap snuggled at her side, purring. Wookey, who was wearing a pink, frilly terry towel, and a pink-checkered tea cozy on her head, brought her a cup of steaming Darjeeling tea. Sniffing slightly she glimpsed at Gwen with a look of nearly undisguised reproach, as the latter lit a cigarette. Nap didn't like the smoke either and withdrew a bit.

"What's the matter with you, miss?" the house-elf asked worried. "You look exhausted."

Gwen took a sip of tea, and groaned. "Worked all afternoon with a stiff-faced colleague of another section in a stone-cold office," she replied, taking off her glasses, and cleaning them with a Tergeo spell. "That meant no breaks, no chatting with Isabelle, not one little cigarette…"

Wookey looked at her thoughtfully. Gwen sighed. The elf, of course, would not understand. She would certainly love to work ceaselessly. The only good thing was that Crow, even though unfamiliar with the brainroom magic, was really quick on the uptake. He would master the spell soon, and was obviously eager to know every detail.

Wookey left to prepare the supper in the kitchen; Gwen looked into the fire dreamily, blowing smoke rings into the air, while she heard Wookey clattering with pots and dishes. She suddenly gasped – hadn't there been a head in the fire? She screwed up her eyes, until she saw a pink blur. There was nothing but the crackling flames. Hadn't she just cleaned her glasses? She must have been dreaming.

After a while Wookey called her to the kitchen: "Dinner's ready, miss!" Gwen stood up, yawning and stretching and went through the hallway to the kitchen, Napoleon jumped off the sofa, following her. Wookey served her an excellent herbed potato salad, home-baked bread and a cold butterbeer.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	7. Chapter 7

_Thursday, 21 April 1994_

Her head ached. She moaned a bit, turned around and tried to ignore it. The headache grew stronger. She shouldn't have drunk so much wine yesterday night. The head in the flames had finally turned out to be Norma, who had wailed and discussed with her for nearly an hour. Why Gwen had left. Why she had come here of all places. Why she didn't come back to London. Why she wanted to be alone. Whether she, Norma, could apparate and talk to Gwen in person (which Gwen had declined). How she was supposed to live without Gwen.

_How did she find me in the first place? _Gwen wondered. She had ended the relationship, left London and come here to find some peace and quiet.

She peered out of the window. The sky outside had the colour of anthracite coal. Her round red alarm clock whispered dozily. "Half past four – what's the matter with you?" She rubbed her eyes. Indeed. Yet she did not even try to get back to sleep. She was wide awake, her head was throbbing.

Gwen got up, wrapped herself in a black wool cardigan, took her wand and cast a Lumos spell. Then she went to the kitchen where she put on the kettle and lit the fire. She took the dark-blue satin pouch remembering yesterday's card and drew a new one. She turned it over and stared. It showed a skeleton in armour on horseback bearing a black standard with a white sign she did not know. Below the horse a dead man was lying amongst litter and waste. On the right-hand side a bishop, a young girl and a child were welcoming the strange knight.

"Death," she murmured. Honoria had calmed her once, explaining that this card did not necessarily mean physical death, but could be interpreted as an ending in general – of good or bad things. She mused for a while, thinking of yesterday's discussion with Norma.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen opened the door to the Brain Room, yawning heartily. Her head was still throbbing a little. She even had had a big mug of strong coffee instead of her usual morning tea, but if anything it had made her even more tired.

She wanted to start early to do some calculations for Isabelle, and perhaps finish a report for Ad before she had to join Suplinius Crow at nine o'clock again. She was all alone, not even Ademarus was here. The green liquid in the tank was emitting an occasional soft gurgle.

She sat down at one of the tables, running through a list with various columns of figures she had taken out of her office and yawned again. She suddenly felt a cold shiver down her spine and hugged herself for some warmth. She screwed up her eyes to fight against her headache, and saw a pink glint when she opened them again. She moaned. _What a hangover!_ Hopefully she could leave early in the afternoon. This seemed to be one of those horrible days…

After a quarter of an hour Honoria entered the room.

"Good morning, Gwen," she beamed at her. "You're early. What's the matter with you?"

"Morning Honoria," Gwen muttered in reply. "I am a bit tired. Hangover," she added half whispering.

Honoria smiled: "I'll bring you an anti-hangover potion. I've got some in my office."

"How very convenient," Gwen grinned for the first time this morning. "What are you doing here so early?"

Honoria looked at the big round clock hanging over the entrance door. "Oh, a quarter to eight. I am not early, I am late," she explained. "We had a trance night at one of my participant's home. Originally we wanted to go to a meadow, it's nearly the full moon, but it was too cold."

She yawned. "We stayed awake all the time, singing, drumming and dancing. A really exciting experience! I've only come here to note down some of my results, but now I am going home to have a sumptuous breakfast and then catch up on some sleep. I suppose I can write my report at home – in the afternoon."

She kept her word and brought Gwen a pale-blue potion that tasted a bit like a mixture of peppermint, salt and pumpkin. Gwen screwed up her mouth, but sipped it obediently in tiny gulps. Honoria bid her good-bye and left the Brain Room.

At eight o'clock Bob and Ademarus turned up. Ad looked knowingly at Gwen with her pale-blue potion. "How was your work with Crow?" he asked without preambles.

"All right," she replied. "He'll get the hang of the spell soon enough. Anyhow – you've never told me why Agatha Hill gave her approval."

Bob could be heard whistling a merry tune while he was cleaning the big tank with some expert spells.

"Haven't I?" Ad looked at her in mild surprise. "She told me Crow had good reasons to learn our technique, since he was investigating an area where there are overlappings with our field of study."

Gwen looked at him questioningly.

"Well, you know that Mr Crow studies natural dying," Ademarus added a bit impatiently. "He wants to examine the brain, too, I suppose." He didn't elaborate any further.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Isabelle and Firmin entered the Brain Room. They wished Gwen and Ademarus a good morning. Firmin asked whether Vivi had been already here.

"She wanted to bring me a new muggle brain," he informed them enthusiastically. "One of a rather youngish person. The others I am working with are from older ones."

"No, I haven't seen her," said Gwen. "And I've been the first today," she added, not without pride. Firmin scratched his slightly balding forehead, and disappeared into his office.

Gwen handed Isabelle the calculations she'd done for her. Isabelle patted her shoulder. "Excellent! Thanks. You're becoming an early riser."

Both of them went to their office where Gwen confided Isabelle that Norma had contacted her by remote floo yesterday evening. Outside the window dark heavy clouds were passing by.

"How come Norma knew where to find you?" Isabelle asked, pouring Gwen a cup of her delicious coffee.

Looking at her desk Gwen thought:_ What a mess. I really should invest some time in clearing this desk one of those days. _She took the proffered cup and stirred. "Thanks. – I haven't got a clue who could have told her. I suppose the Ministry staff is not allowed to provide information."

"No, they aren't," confirmed Isabelle. They looked at each other knowingly. "Perhaps someone has blabbed. Are you going to work with Crow again?"

"Yep," Gwen nodded, then suddenly had an idea, and extracted a small package from her leather-bag. "You know what? I'll hurry to the smoking room for one little cigarette. If I work with him the whole morning I won't have time to do so. If there are any problems with the calculations you know where to find me. " She grinned. "See you later, I hope."

"See you," said Isabelle, looking disapprovingly at the cigarettes.

When Gwen left the smoking room on the fourth floor at a quarter to nine she nearly bumped into Macnair who was leaving the lift. She remembered Roberta telling them about the Hogwarts hippogriff, and drew back instinctively. Macnair grinned at her, and she didn't like his grin at all. It was more of a leer. She entered the lift and hurried to the Department of Mysteries.

She could have entered the Death Chamber directly from the Circular Room, yet out of habit entered the Brain Room first, crossed it, waving at Isabelle and Ad who were absorbed in pointing their wands at "Jérôme". The brain was wobbling back and forth in the big tank.

When she opened the door to the gloomy Chamber she gave a sudden gasp. Horror-struck, she took in the picture that presented itself to her.

An immense green translucent skull with a snake coming out of its mouth was hovering in the air above the ancient stone archway. A wizard was cordoning the area off, others were standing or kneeling around a dead body lying face-down on the dais. One of those people was suddenly pointing at her, then turned to another person, as the door closed irreversibly behind her. She stood as if rooted to the spot, a dark cold clasping at her.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	8. Chapter 8

"Miss Bale," said a voice, which she first didn't recognise because she'd never heard it sound so soft. She turned her head, and saw Suplinius Crow approaching.

"Sorry, I couldn't inform you of the trouble we're currently experiencing," he said, waving at the crowd.

"What's happened? Who… who is it?" asked Gwen, who had finally found her voice again.

"Come with me," he said and led her to his office.

When the door closed behind them, he offered her a chair and a glass of water.

"It seems that someone killed Archibald Dusk," Crow explained, matter-of-factly.

Gwen looked aghast: "What…?" She thought of the body she had not been able to discern from the distance. _Archie! Who in Merlin's name would want to kill Archie? _She was so perplexed that she took a sip of the offered water.

"His death was reported this morning, even before I came here," he stated, "and as it seems so far, it was not a natural death, nor suicide."

_Why does he tell me that? _Gwen wondered, wondering at the same time why she wondered about that. She still felt a bit numb from the shock of seeing the crime site, and hearing who the victim was. She remembered him looking so happy in the company of his young wife Eleanor.

"I don't think you should be standing around at the scene of the crime. I don't know what's going to happen, but I would be grateful if you could keep your silence about what you've seen."

_You won't forbid me to tell my friends, _Gwen thought mutinously, occluding her mind at once.

"Do you want me to stay here?" she asked, feeling slightly dizzy.

At this moment, someone entered the door. Gwen whirled around. It was Ivo Gilmour.

"Good morning, Suplinius, good morning, Miss Bale," he greeted them in his deep voice. "May I ask what you are doing in here, Miss Bale?"

"Don't worry, Ivo, she's working for me at the moment," Crow drawled.

"I am working _with _you," Gwen emphasised acidly.

"The Aurors in charge want to talk to you, Miss Bale. Would you please follow me." Ivo Gilmour opened the door, beckoning her to follow him.

"To me?" Gwen looked at him, astounded, and got up.

They left Crow's office.

Crow followed them almost noiselessly.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen could not bear to look at the dead body. Instead she focussed on Timothy Oakden who was talking to a witch and a wizard she didn't know. Timothy looked very tense, not at all his usual pithy and cheery self.

The white-haired Alex Campbell and his colleague, Mercia Borthwick, were standing in front of the arch, holding their hands upright, seemingly muttering under their breath to something or someone behind the veil. Jacobus Mayfield, Dusk's colleague, was standing alone on the steps, outside the cordon, as if stunned, his straight parting slightly ruffled. Two wizards she did not know were searching the area with the help of their wands. Nearby, Manisha Cullen, gesticulating with her beautiful hands, talked softly to the plump Evelyn Anderson, who looked around with big round eyes.

The two people Timothy was talking to, a tall witch and a wizard holding a magic camera, looked up at the approaching trio. The impressive-looking witch, clad in dark emerald robes, took a step forward.

"Good morning, Miss Bale," she said in a deep manly voice. "My name is Marilyn Beresford. I am the Auror in charge. I asked Mr Gilmour to fetch you." They shook hands. Her grip was firm. Gwen wondered why she knew her name, and nodded to Timothy.

"Auror Jonathan Hope is my colleague and he claims to know you from school." Mrs Beresford pointed at the broad-shouldered wizard at her side. He was about the same age as Gwen and had small, intelligent brown eyes.

Gwen stared at him, then suddenly exclaimed. "Jon, it's you!" They shook hands, too, Jon's eyes were twinkling.

"Hi Gwen," he said. "I am sorry, really sorry to see you under such … tragic circumstances. Do you work in the Death Chamber, too?"

She shook her head vigorously: "I usually work in the Brain Room, but am currently working with Mr Crow." Crow confirmed this towards Mrs Beresford, stating that Gwen had only turned up now. Mrs Beresford asked Gwen what time it was when she had entered the Department of Mysteries.

Gwen reflected for some seconds: "At about half past seven."

Marilyn Beresford looked at her with interest. "And did you notice anything unusual? Whom did you meet?"

Gwen negated the first question and enumerated the people she had seen in her own section this morning. Marilyn Beresford nodded at Jon who took notes of everything Gwen said.

Marilyn Beresford continued talking to Crow and Gilmour, while Jonathan whispered: "It's really nice to see you, Gwen. Haven't seen you for ages! It was such a wonderful time in Ravenclaw, wasn't it?"

"Jonathan, when you've taken pictures of everything could you please tell Pete to remove that dreadful sign?" Mrs Beresford had suddenly turned back to him. Jon nodded.

Gwen followed him.

He climbed over the cordon to go down some steps and get a better view of the Dark Mark. Leaning backwards he took some photographs of the horrible green symbol overhead. The camera flashed several times.

"Haven't seen the Dark Mark for many years now," he mumbled. "I had hoped to never see it again!"

Suddenly he stumbled over a slim rod. Gwen grabbed his shoulder preventing him from falling. He cursed under his breath while Gwen stooped down to pick up a wand.

Mrs Beresford, who had been making notes in a big leather-bound notebook, looked up and joined them on the steps.

"Where did you find the wand?" she asked slowly, looking straight into Gwen's eyes.

Gwen noticed the Legilimency contact at once and shut down automatically. She saw Mrs Beresford's irritation at being rebuffed, but couldn't help it. She was an Unspeakable after all.

"Jon tripped over it," she explained, and Jon nodded.

"I think it was lying on the steps all along. Pete and Gasparus have not come here yet. They are merely starting," Jon added.

Mrs Beresford took the wand from Gwen's hand and went up the dais again.

"Do you know anything about the murderer," Gwen whispered, edging closer to Jon to avoid being overheard.

He looked at her. "We know that the person must be a Dark Wizard or Witch," he pointed at the skull, "which is why we were called, and not the Hit Wizards. But apart from this we don't know very much yet. And if we knew… I am not allowed to tell you," he frowned, then continued whispering: "But no one can prevent me from meeting an old schoolmate in the Three Broomsticks at eight o'clock next Saturday." He grinned boyishly and for a brief moment it was as if they were still students at Hogwarts.

Gwen nodded conspiratorially. "All right, I'll meet you there." It would be great to see the Hogsmeade pub again – a bit more than two decades after they had left their old school.

She observed how Pete and Gasparus Levitated Archie's body to put it gingerly into a body-bag and led it away with the help of a Locomotor spell.

"Where will they…?" she didn't finish the sentence.

"Aurors' Headquarters," Jon murmured. "We've got a mortuary there."

Crow suddenly appeared behind them and hastily dismissed Gwen for today, postponing their joint work until the next day.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

"_Comment_?" Isabelle looked at her in horror. Gwen had dragged her into their office and told her what had happened in the Death Chamber – the body beside the Arch, the murder, and the Aurors.

Gwen shushed her anxiously.

"And what about Eleanor? How is she?" asked Isabelle, still looking aghast.

"When I left the Death Chamber, Jon told me that one of his colleagues, I think his name was Pete, had already been sent to inform her," Gwen explained, still feeling a bit rattled.

"It's unbelievable," Isabelle exclaimed, running her finger through her short brown hair, "insane! Who in Merlin's name would want to kill Archie?"

"That's exactly what I've been thinking," Gwen agreed, remembering with a pang how happy Archibald had been lately.

"They will try to hush this up, won't they?"

"I think so. They always hush things up. But I don't know whether they will succeed in doing so this time." Gwen mused with a grim look. "Too many people have seen the body. And this is – murder."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

An hour later Eleanor burst through the main entrance of the Brain Room, her beautiful face tear-stained, her lips trembling. Firmin, who didn't know what had happened next-door, looked up from the brain he was working on, his jaw dropping.

"What's…?"

Eleanor didn't say a word to him, but rushed to the desk where Honoria, who still did not know about the crime either, gave Gwen a lecture about nerve cells, synapses, and neurons. Honoria loved giving lectures and knew a lot about muggle science. And Gwen loved listening to her. It was always interesting. Ernie, brain number four, floated inside a small tank standing on the table between the witches.

"Could you please accompany me to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Eleanor looked Gwen straight into the eyes, her body visibly shivering through her pale grey robes.

"Wh.. why, of course." Gwen replied, slightly taken aback, wondering why Eleanor hadn't asked anyone else from her own section, or even Honoria, who was, in her opinion, much more motherly than herself, but then remembered that Eleanor probably had heard that Gwen was supposed to be the only one outside the Death Chamber who knew that her husband was dead. Maybe she wanted to keep it a secret for another while, yet needed someone to support her on her way.

"Just give me a moment to put this brain back into its tank and inform Ad," she said awkwardly.

Gwen took up the small tank, and hurried towards the big tank in the middle of the room to return the brain with the help of her wand, and a picker-arm. She noticed out of the corner of her eye how Honoria laid an arm around Eleanor, trying to soothe her, even though she did not know what this was all about.

Bob came out of his office carrying a bucket full of picker-arms he had cleaned. Gwen asked him to leave the two witches alone, and Bob, peering at them from the distance, consented and withdrew immediately.

When Gwen entered Ad's office, she made up her mind in an instant. Sooner or later everyone in the Department of Mysteries would know, perhaps it would help the Aurors to leave everyone in the dark as long as possible, but Ad was Gwen's colleague. _And certainly not the murderer! _she thought.

So she told him what had happened to Archibald Dusk this morning, and that Eleanor had asked her to accompany her to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Ademarus looked appalled, and immediately gave his assent to her leaving the Brain Room.

She went to her own office, took her leather-bag and returned to where Honoria was still standing, Eleanor was sitting in a chair, her arms hanging loosely by her side.

"The rose-quartz is surely good for you now," Gwen heard Honoria say softly. "It's the best gem for healing the heart, it's called the love stone."

"Archie gave it to me," Eleanor's voice cracked. Honoria looked very worried, but did not ask questions, adhering to the DoM codex of waiting until you were told.

"We can go now, if you like." Gwen laid a hand on Eleanor's shoulder, looking gratefully at Honoria.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen and Eleanor went swiftly to the lifts. Inside of one, Eleanor burst into tears. Gwen patted her shoulder clumsily.

"I … can't believe it… won't believe it…," the young blonde witch sobbed into her handkerchief.

Gwen simply didn't know what to say and just kept on patting Eleanor's back.

Up they went to Level two, where the cool female voice announced the divisions of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. They went down a long corridor. Eleanor's steps became slower and slower. On the left-hand side a door opened to the Aurors' Headquarters, a big open room that was divided into lots of cubicles. The two witches were standing in the entrance, looking a bit at a loss of where to turn to.

A tall, bald black wizard wearing a single gold hooped earring suddenly left one of the cubicles. He looked at them and asked them in a deep slow voice: "Who are you looking for?"

"Mrs Beresford and Mr Hope," Gwen answered, while Eleanor looked at her gratefully.

"Follow me, I'll show you the way," the tall wizard said. On their way Gwen curiously peered into some of the cubicles where witches and wizards were reading, writing or talking in low voices. Eleanor was just staring at the wizard's back.

In one of the cubicles right in the middle of the wide area they found Jon. There were two tiny desks, and the walls of the cubicle were plastered with posters of wanted wizards, Sirius Black prominently among them, and _Daily Prophet _clippings.

If Jon was surprised to see Gwen with the victim's wife, he didn't let it on. He thanked the tall wizard, gave Gwen a short smile, and then addressed Eleanor.

"Thank you for coming here, Mrs Dusk. I am so sorry for your loss, please be assured of my sincere sympathy." He offered her his hand. "Mrs Beresford will be here in a moment to talk to you. I must ask you one thing – do you want to see your husband's mortal remains?"

Eleanor gulped, looked at him with wide blue eyes and gave a short nod.

"Do you want Gwen to accompany you, or do you want her to wait for you here?"

Gwen froze. Only now she realised that she would possibly see the deceased again.

"I'd rather have her with me."

Gwen tried to look brave and followed them.


	9. Chapter 9

Jon led them to a far corner of the Aurors' Headquarters to a big steel door, which he opened with a complicated flick of his wand.

The room they entered was brilliantly lit, spotlessly clean, and tiled completely in white. There were several metal tables, on one of them a body was lying, a white sheet spread over it. A wizard in a white coat was standing in front of it. He turned around and hastened to meet them.

"I'm Pluto Beckford," he introduced himself, before he expressed his condolences. He led them to the table, and drew the sheet down a bit to reveal the deceased's face. Archibald Dusk's eyes were wide open.

Eleanor gave a shriek and fainted. Gwen caught her around the waist, and tried to drag her away from the table. Jon was at her side immediately and together they sat her on a squashy chair Beckford conjured adroitly out of thin air. She came to after some seconds. Beckford had covered the dead entirely and pulled a screen in front of the table.

"I'm so sorry," Eleanor whimpered, but all of them calmed her. "I feel like I'm just having a bad dream, a nightmare, from which I want to wake up…"

Pluto Beckford offered her a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully. Jon and Gwen soothed her.

Eleanor rubbed her already red eyes: "Do you know how he died? I mean … did he suffer? Was it…? What was it?"

Beckford cleared his throat: "I have not completed all the necessary examinations. So it's still too early to issue a definite statement."

"To me it looks like a … well… you know, an Unforgivable Curse," said Jon.

"I… I assume it was," replied Beckford hesitantly. "Everything points to that direction. But, as I said, I have to carry out all the required examinations."

~ooOOooOOoo~

When they returned to Jon's cubicle they found Marilyn Beresford talking to a tall witch in her early fifties, with very short brown hair. The latter looked around as they approached, and suddenly her intelligent brown eyes turned angry. Eleanor grabbed Gwen's arm.

"What's the matter," asked Gwen, bewildered.

"This is Mabel Tancock," Mrs Beresford introduced the tall witch to Jon. "She told me that she works in the Hall of Prophecies, and was Archibald Dusk's first wife. Could you please ascertain her personal data, Jon, while I ask Mrs Dusk some questions?"

Jon accompanied Mabel Tancock, who threw a murderous look at Eleanor, away from the cubicle.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

"What are _you _doing here, Miss Bale?" Marilyn Beresford asked in her deep voice, sitting down at her desk and reaching for a package of cigarillos.

"Eleanor asked me to come with her," Gwen replied defiantly.

"Are you friends?"

"We're… colleagues," Gwen explained, and Eleanor nodded.

"I… I needed a support," she said in a low voice. "Mr Mayfield, my husband's colleague, wasn't able to come with me, but told me that Gwen had been there in the Death Chamber this morning, and as I know her…," her voice trailed off.

"Now, Mrs Dusk, you won't mind me asking you some questions?"

Eleanor shook her blonde long hair, biting back her tears: "Of course not."

"Do you want Miss Bale to leave now?"

"No, no, I am glad she's here."

Mrs Beresford looked at her curiously. Then she took up her wand and cast a spell.

"Now no one can listen in," she explained. "All right then, please sit down." She conjured an additional chair. From a drawer in her desk she drew out a form and an emerald-coloured magic quill, which floated in the air.

Gwen wondered for a moment whether she would use Legilimency, but supposed she knew by now that it wouldn't work with the Unspeakables.

"Your name is…?"

"Eleanor Dusk." The quill scribbled hurriedly.

"And you are Mr Dusk's wife?"

She nodded, blinking back some tears. The quill seemed to tick off something.

"You've been married how long?"

"Since last December," she whispered. "Fourth of December." The quill continued writing.

"Oh, I am sorry, Mrs Dusk. Where do you live?"

Eleanor gave her address, somewhere in the suburbs of London.

"Now, where have you been this morning?"

Eleanor looked at her aghast, her big blue eyes round with shock: "Why do you… Do you think that I … I myself could have …" She clapped her hand over her mouth.

"These are just some routine questions we have to ask all those involved," Mrs Beresford explained stony-faced. "Now would you please tell me where you've been?"

Eleanor tried to collect herself. "We got up very early, at about half past five, had breakfast together and apparated at the Ministry at about …let me think … seven o'clock? Then I went to the Planet Room."

"You went there directly?" Mrs Beresford extracted a cigarillo from the package.

"Yes, of course." Eleanor's hands shivered slightly.

"And you never left the Planet Room later on?"

"No."

"There is certainly someone who can confirm your statement?"

"Feodora was there. Cleaning Jupiter. But she was the only one. It was very early."

"When did your other colleagues enter the Planet Room?"

Eleanor shrugged. "I don't now, I didn't look at the watch. Mary might have arrived half an hour later. The Research team usually turns up much later."

The quill scribbled madly.

"We'll find out. And when was the last time you saw your husband?" Mrs Beresford turned her cigarillo in her right hand, but did not light it.

"I … as I said, I saw him in the Circular Room, when we both entered the Department of Mysteries. I went to the Planet Room and he went to the … to the Death Chamber." She gave a sudden sob.

"You two always went together to work?"

"Yes, nearly always. We always tried to start as early as possible to enjoy the afternoon together," she said wiping her eyes. "To get some sunlight, or … or at least fresh air, you know. Or to see some people."

"And you didn't notice anything unusual on your way to the Department, or later to the Planet Room?"

"No."

"You didn't see anyone?"

"N…no." She hesitated. "Or… wait, I might have seen the robes of somebody in the Death Chamber when Archie opened the door. But I am not sure."

"What kind of robes?"

"I … no, I really don't remember. Black robes? I'm not sure about it."

"All right, when exactly did you start working in the Planet Room?"

Eleanor wiped her brow. "On 1 January 1994," her answer came now mechanically.

"And what are your responsibilities?"

"I am still familiarising with the different projects they are realising in this section," Eleanor replied hesitantly. "And I am not allowed to talk about our work. I am afraid I must refer you to Lilian Scantlebury, my superior, or even to Agatha Hill, our Head of Department."

Mrs Beresford lighted her cigarillo. Gwen was sure that this was not allowed.

"Do you know whether your husband had any enemies?"

Eleanor considered for a while: "Not as far as I know."

"Has your husband behaved differently recently?"

Eleanor just shook her head. She seemed a bit tired by now. "No. We've been very happy."

"Did he know any Death Eaters?"

By now Gwen was feeling a bit dizzy in the face of all the questions Mrs Beresford shot at Eleanor. Apart from that the air in the cubicle got thicker. But now she sat up straight and gaped at the Auror. _What a question? _she thought. _What is the point? Does she want to catch her off her guard or what?_

"Death Eaters? Wha… What…?" Eleanor looked shocked.

"We have reason to believe that Death Eater activity might be involved," Mrs Beresford answered cryptically, and Gwen had an inkling that they hadn't told Eleanor about the Dark Mark hovering over the victim.

"But how can you think that I, or Archie knew one of them?" For the first time Gwen saw Eleanor getting angry.

"I see," Mrs Beresford replied drily. "Could you please draw up a list of your husband's friends and acquaintances for us?"

"Yes, of course. Is that everything you need from me?"

"Yes, Mrs Dusk, that's everything for the moment. I'll come back to you later if you don't mind."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

On their way back to the DoM Eleanor looked Gwen into the eyes. "I am so glad you came with me, I couldn't have done it alone."

Gwen murmured something that sounded like "no problem at all, really."

Eleanor whispered: "I know that you said in there we were just colleagues, but today you've been like a real friend to me, and I will never forget it, thank you."

Gwen nodded. "That's all right. You would have done the same, wouldn't you?"

"I've just one question…," she eyed Gwen shyly and hesitated.

"Go ahead."

"I'm sorry, what … what were _you _doing in the Death Chamber?" .

"I am working with Mr Crow at the moment." Gwen didn't elaborate.

They left the lift and went to the Circular Room.

"What will you do now?" Gwen asked Eleanor.

"I don't know. I think I'll go to Lilian and tell her that I have to leave for today. Or even some more days… I have to …arrange things, I guess…" Her voice trailed off.

Lilian Scantlebury was the Manager of the Planet Room.

"I'm so sorry for you. You go home and get in touch with your family. If you need me again, just let me know," Gwen heard herself say.

They hugged for a brief moment, then Eleanor returned to her workplace, while Gwen entered the Brain Room.

~ooOOoo~

The rest of the morning went by like a heavy but fast dream. Gwen worked mechanically, throwing an occasional glance at Isabelle, whose lips were pressed together grimly.

When they went to the Cenaculum they noticed that groups of Unspeakables were standing together, speaking under their breaths. Gwen and Isabelle looked at each other, knowing that sooner or later everyone in the Department of Mysteries would know about the murder of Archibald Dusk. A sudden whiff of perfume made Gwen turn around.

"What's happened here?" Vivi Gregorius had suddenly appeared behind them, looking shrewdly at all the buzzing and talking.

"You'll learn it anyway," Gwen said darkly. "Archibald Dusk has been murdered in the Death Chamber this morning."

Vivi looked at her aghast. "What? I can't believe it!" She nearly dropped her dragonhide briefcase.

"It's true," Isabelle confirmed, and the three of them went to the counter to get their meals, talking in low whispers.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	10. Chapter 10

When Gwen returned home she felt more grateful than ever about her cosy home. Nap rubbed his head against her leg, and Wookey served her two Cornish pasties, one with lamb and mint and one with diced meat, onions, and sliced potatoes. A letter was lying on the kitchen table.

"An owl has brought it this afternoon," Wookey informed her, magically lighting a candlestick on the kitchen table.

Gwen looked at the letter. It was from Norma. She steeled herself. "I'll read it after dinner."

But she couldn't wait that long. She wasn't able to enjoy her pasties staring at the letter. So after some bites she ripped it open, and read it, turning red in the face, then pale.

"Is it bad news?" Wookey asked, alarmed, in her squeaky voice, then looked bashfully at the ground.

"She is going mad, I think," Gwen put the letter down. "She wants me to see her in London or at least to let her come here."

"And you don't want to see her?"

"No! What for? Everything has been said and done. I came here to be alone, and not see her anymore." Gwen ruffled her hair agitatedly.

Wookey merely nodded. "I see."

"And I don't know what to do. Someone must have told her where I live, or she could not have visited me in the fireplace yesterday. I don't want her to come here."

The pasties had gone a bit cold by now.

"Do you want me to heat them a bit for you, Miss?"

"No, Wookey, later. You know what. I'll try to contact Miss Carthew, I must tell her something."

She got up and went to the fireplace in the sitting-room, but then remembered that she had once more forgotten to get floo powder due to all the turmoil that had happened today. She sighed, then grabbed her cloak and went to Miss Carthew's house. Outside rain was pouring like buckets of water. She knocked at the old lady's door who opened it only a crack, looking surprised, then hastened to let her in.

"Oh dear, what are you doing in this pouring rain?"

"Sorry, Miss Carthew, I wanted to contact you by floo powder, but have run out of it. I wanted to talk to you, have you got some time?" She cast a drying charm on herself.

"Of course. Do sit down, please. Just let me finish brewing this catarrh potion because it needs constant stirring, I'll be with you in a minute."

She called Wookey, who apparated at once, and asked her to prepare a pot of violet tea for them. While Gwen was waiting in Miss Carthew's parlour, Wookey served the tea, looking at Gwen somewhat reproachfully. Miss Carthew finished brewing her potion in her tiny laboratory next door.

"I amended this potion a bit, you know," the old lady informed Gwen when she joined her in the parlour. "I added some of the violets I've plucked this spring."

She sat down on an old-fashioned armchair, took a sip, then put the cup down and looked at Gwen expectantly.

And Gwen told her what had happened in the Department of Mysteries.

Miss Carthew listened quietly until Gwen was finished. She only interrupted her now and then to ask for some more details.

Afterwards she kept silent for a while, just looking out of the window with its crochet curtain. A small wrinkle appeared on her forehead.

"Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries. I can't recollect anything like this happening in my time." She shook her head. "I suppose the safety precautions are as strict as ever?"

Gwen nodded: "Of course. You know them all. I can't imagine how a Death Eater could have entered the Death Chamber." She thought of the complicated door code, the silver instrument, the Caverotari spell. _And yet it had happened_, a voice said inside her head.

"Do you still have these awful codes to open the black door," Miss Carthew asked, smiling softly.

"Yes. And they still change them every week. Do you think someone might have blabbed?"

"It's always a possibility. Perhaps involuntarily. Or unknowing that the other person is a Death Eater. Some even say that Lord Voldemort could come back."

Gwen flinched at the mentioning of the name. "But why would a Death Eater or You-know-who want to kill Archibald Dusk?"

"I've got no idea. That's what we must try to find out." The old lady took up her delicate porcelain cup again.

"We?" Gwen smiled. It was probably the first time today.

"You still haven't told me who found the body."

"Because I don't know."

"Well, didn't you say that you're going to meet your old schoolfriend on Saturday?" Miss Carthew raised her eyebrows innocently.

"Yes, I am." Gwen drained her cup, grinning, and felt suddenly hungry.

"It's always nice to meet old friends, isn't it?" she asked, cocking her head slightly.

Gwen grinned even broader. Too many people underestimated Miss Carthew. She wondered whether she should tell her about Norma, as she had intended to do, but then took her leave to return home and finish her dinner. Wookey followed her happily.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Friday, 22 April 1994_

"AAAAAAArgh!"

In her office, Gwen looked up from the pile of parchment she was trying to sort. She leapt to her feet and ran to the Brain Room.

Firmin was standing in front of his working table, his arms and neck entangled in brain tentacles. Bob was also hurrying to his rescue. Ad was running out of his office.

"I'll try to hold him calm, you do the spells," Bob shouted when he saw that Gwen had already extracted her wand, trying to target the brain.

Bob grabbed Firmin by his shoulders from behind, and Gwen pointed her wand at the tentacles wrapping around Firmin's neck and arms. Ad joined her, his wand raised.

Firmin was panting, thick pearls of sweat covered his forehead, his eyes were wide open.

"_Dissertio – dissuo – dissertio – dissuo_," Gwen performed the nonverbal spells while closing down her mind as tightly as possible. Ad was doing the same.

"Try not to move," gasped Bob. Firmin was shivering, his face pale.

The tentacles one by one loosened Firmin, who sank to the ground, completely exhausted.

Gwen took a picker-arm lying on the table, took up the brain floating in the air, and put it back into the small tank on Firmin's table.

Bob and Ad helped Firmin to get up and sit on a chair. Gwen joined them. The older wizard looked up, whispering: "I … I don't know how it could happen."

"This can happen to anyone," Gwen said consolingly.

"I suppose I didn't pay attention for a moment, and then…"

"I'll get him to the infirmary," Ademarus said.

Bob examined the brain inside the tank, which was looking harmless and innocent. "I'll get some restorative potion for the brain," he said. The brain might look unscathed, but after having been outside its preservation solution it would need some maintenance.

Honoria and Vivi entered the Brain Room. While Ad accompanied Firmin, and Bob worked on the brain, Gwen informed the witches about the latest brain attack, taking off her skewed glasses to clean them with a Tergeo spell.

"No wonder one can't focus on one's work," commiserated Vivi, glancing meaningfully at the door leading to the Death Chamber. "With a … well… you know, such an incident next door!"

Honoria looked troubled: "I hope he'll get to the Mediwitch in time. Did you loosen the tentacles all right?"

"I hope so." Gwen said uneasily.

"I am sure you did your best." Honoria patted her on the shoulder. "What are you doing here so early?"

"Well, I don't know," Gwen admitted, "but I couldn't sleep this morning. This has never happened to me before, but it's been like this for – hem – three days now. So I thought I'd better come here to get some work done, since I have to work with Crow later on."

"Sorry girls, I'll go on, I have an appointment in the Hall of Prophecies," Vivi flashed her brilliant smile. "Got some Muggle prophecies for them. One wouldn't think so, but even muggles make prophecies. They call them economic forecasts, but nevertheless they are prophecies. And what's most interesting is the fact that a lot of people act based on those prophecies. Entire systems, even whole nations depend on them."

Isabelle looked impressed, but something stirred in the back of Gwen's mind: "Do you know Mrs Tancock?" she blurted out suddenly.

This question earned her a curious look from the platinum blonde.

"Yes, of course, Mabel Tancock works in the Hall of Prophecies, why do you ask?"

"Just asking…," Gwen answered clumsily, but ploughed on, "how is she like?"

"She is a hard-working, down-to-earth, and really competent woman," Vivi lowered her voice, "and I suppose you know that she was Dusk's first wife?"

Gwen answered with a nod.

"Wasn't very nice of him to abandon her after all those years," Vivi whispered, "for a younger one, I mean."

"_He _abandoned _her_?" Honoria asked surprised. "I thought it was the other way round!"

"Me too," Gwen whispered. "I've heard his first wife always gave him a hard time, that she was never content with him, and that they argued a lot."

"Who told you that?" Vivi raised one of her perfectly-shaped eyebrows.

Gwen and Honoria looked at each other, Gwen shrugged.

"There are always many sides to one story," Vivi said sagely, holding up her slender index finger. "You know how these rumours fly inside this Department. Now, I am not exactly her confessor, but I got a very different impression at that time... saw her red-rimmed eyes, and not only once. Well, won't say anymore now. Anyway, I am already late. See you!" And off she went on her high-heels, a cloud of perfume trailing behind her as always.

When she was out of earshot, Honoria waved her hand a bit and coughed. "Oh dear, I believe I've got a perfume allergy. Or perhaps I am just getting more and more sensitive every day. That's what this energy work does to you." She cocked her head, fingering the beautiful amethyst stones she was wearing. "Talking about sensitivity – perhaps you've been feeling all this commotion, and therefore been waking up that early?"

"Oh," said Gwen, taken aback. "Do you think so?"

"Why not? You're an empathic person. Do you still draw your card every morning?"

"Yes," Gwen shuddered. She wondered whether she should tell Honoria about yesterday's card, but decided against it. It sounded too unbelievable. "Today it was Five of Wands."

"Conflict and struggle. A lot of disagreement and dissatisfaction around," Honoria raised her eyebrows. "Now that's interesting. What's your interpretation?"

"I… I still cannot say," said Gwen hesitantly, thinking of the five men fighting with their wands, who were displayed on the card.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Isabelle.

"_Bonjour, mesdames_," she greeted them, but not with her usual bright smile. She looked earnest and a bit tired.

Honoria and Gwen returned her greeting, and after a short chat, Honoria and Isabelle went to their offices, while Gwen went up to Level Four "for the length of a little cigarette" before she had to meet Crow again.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	11. Chapter 11

Mercia Borthwick, Alex Campbell and Ivo Gilmour were standing beside the Arch pointing their wands at the Veil and muttering something. Some pearly white spectres emanated from the heavy cloth.

When Gwen entered the Death Chamber, wearing her black wool cardigan, they did not break off, as they had done before. Alex even gave a short nod in her direction, then continued his work. She realised with some delight that they obviously trusted her.

Gwen tried to be polite and not look at them, even though she nearly burst with curiosity.

"Enter," drawled Crow when Gwen had knocked at his door, which she was by now able to find on her own.

He put down his quill, got up behind his desk and went to the table where the tank was standing.

"Good morning, Miss Bale."

"Good morning." She didn't dare to ask him how he was. "Are you making progress?"

He nodded shortly, a frown appearing between his brows.

"Then let me see. I suggest we go on practising and then refining the spell, and afterwards…" – she remembered the attack on Firmin this morning – "…I'd like to show you some emergency spells in case a brain attacks you."

Crow nodded again silently, even a bit absent-minded. His wand movements were still a bit cautious and slow.

"You need all your determination and concentration," she warned him.

He scowled at her, his frown getting deeper. Gwen sighed inwardly. She'd really be happy to terminate this cooperation after she'd shown him everything he needed to know.

Suddenly they heard a boom, and loud voices next door. They looked at each other for the fragment of a second, then hurried out of the room, Crow taking the lead.

Pete and Gasparus were leading off Jacobus Mayfield. Jon and Mrs Beresford were present, too, Jon holding two wands, Mrs Beresford supervising the whole procedure. Mayfield was struggling. He looked angry and shouted: "What do you think you're doing? What will everyone think of me?"

"If you had come quietly, no one would have noticed," Mrs Beresford said coolly.

They left the Death Chamber. Mercia, Alex and Ivo stared after them, Alex stroking his short white beard. Evelyn Anderson and Manisha Cullen stood in the doorway of an office, Evelyn holding a vial containing a smoking white liquid, while Gwen and Crow looked at each other dumbfounded. Crow recovered first.

"No need to interrupt our work any further," he grumbled.

He returned to his office, Gwen glanced at Manisha and Evelyn who had started whispering, then followed Crow back into his office.

~ooOOoo~

_How can he be so calm? _Gwen thought, shaking her head slightly, while she watched Crow extracting a tiny gossamer strand from the brain.

He was really getting better at this. The nonverbal spells to identify and isolate memories from a dead brain were extremely difficult. Then he muttered the spell to preserve the strand in a vial containing a violet-coloured liquid. This spell was needed since the thoughts and images were much more unstable than those from a living person.

Why did they lead off Mayfield? Was it possible that he had murdered his team colleague?

Gwen had brought the pensieve from the Brain Room to examine the memories. Bob didn't like the device being carried from "his" room, but Gwen had managed to reassure him.

In order to look at memories from a conserved brain it was not enough to simply put them into a pensieve. Gwen added five drops of a pale pink liquid to the whitish cloudy contents. The silvery light emanating from the basin grew even brighter, then shone as usual. The colour of the whirling mists was still silvery. Then she opened the vial, extracted the strand with the help of her wand, and added it into the pensieve.

She plunged into the pensieve. _A fragile old woman with thin white hair was lying in her bed, staring at her lined and spotted hands. Sunlight was flooding into the small silent room and onto the gleaming white ironed sheets. Nothing stirred._

When Gwen resurfaced she saw Crow looking at her. "What did you see?"

"An old woman lying in her bed. It was a very clear image. Good work!" she answered.

He didn't even smile. "I'd suggest we make a short break before you show me those emergency spells you mentioned."

Gwen nodded, still thinking of the memory she had just seen. She had felt like an intruder. She often did, and it was part of the Brain Room staff's job, but this time the feeling had been more pronounced. Another idea had struck her. She still couldn't put her finger on it, but there it was. _Why do we most often see people alone when we extract memories from a dead brain?_

Crow brewed an espresso by pointing his wand at a percolator standing on a small table in the corner of his office and, to Gwen's surprise, even offered her one. She accepted. They sipped their espressi from two black cups.

"Have you told anyone about the … incident that happened here yesterday," Crow suddenly asked her, looking as usual not directly at her, but somewhere over her shoulder.

"No," said Gwen, defensively. "Well, I told Ad … Mr Hutton, of course, since I had to accompany Mrs Dusk." She didn't mention Isabelle and Vivi, and started shutting down her brain, fingering her amethysts nervously.

He did not pursue the matter, yet looked again a bit absent-minded.

When they had finished their espresso break Gwen started teaching him the Dissertio spell. They first practised the wand movement. She wanted to procure some fake training brains (used for Brain Room trainees) after the lunch break.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

When they left Crow's office at lunchtime to go to the Cenaculum, Gwen noticed that the door of the adjacent room, which was Mayfield's and Archie's office, was slightly ajar. She heard a soft singing inside.

She reacted quickly: "I'd like to have a word with … Manisha," she told Crow, who nodded with a slight trace of a sneer. "Could you tell me which office is hers?"

He pointed at one of the doors in the background, which was still on their side, and turned around to leave the Death Chamber.

_He obviously has not noticed the gap or he would have kept an eye on me, _Gwen thought hopefully, when she headed towards Manisha's office. She looked around. The Veil fluttered slightly, and the faint voices could be heard as usual. She moved slowly.

When she heard the door closing behind Crow, she tiptoed back to get to Mayfield's and Archie's office. The silence in the Death Chamber was almost palpable. She felt the cold air on her face.

All of a sudden she heard a voice saying: "Heya, Gwendolyn, what are you doing here?"

Her heart almost missed a beat, but she managed to take a deep breath and turn around slowly to look at Evelyn Anderson, who was leaving an office through a door next to Manisha's.

"I was looking for Manisha, but I think she's already gone to the Cenaculum." She hoped that Manisha really wasn't there anymore.

"Yes, she has," Evelyn said brightly. "Have you already had lunch? Do you want to join me to the Cenaculum? You'll surely meet her there."

"Oh, thanks, that'd be nice," Gwen tried to sound enthusiastically.

"Just give me a moment. Whoo, I am so scatterbrained – I am not sure whether I extinguished the burner."

Gwen accompanied her back to her office while Evelyn kept on chatting: "I saw you when they lead away Mayfield."

"I am still working with Crow."

They entered Evelyn's office. The dingy cramped laboratory contained large shelves full of bottles and vials, two sinks, several burners, and two tables, on which were spread out heaps of parchment, several cauldrons and other equipment.

"Now, be careful," Evelyn warned, looking important. "A lot of things in here are highly poisonous."

Gwen smiled while Evelyn checked a burner and rolled her eyes: "I turned it off all right, oh, I just didn't remember."

Gwen glanced at a magazine lying opened on one of the tables. It was an article about antidotes. Evelyn corked up a vial and looked at her.

"Professor Severus Snape's an excellent potioneer. He's the current Potions Master at Hogwarts. His writing is rather dull, but he's got some brains!"

"I know him. Well, I've seen him. He started at Hogwarts when I was in sixth year."

"Now, that's interesting! One of these days you must tell me about him. I am a huge admirer of him, as a potioneer, I mean. And he's still so young!"

Gwen did not know what to say.

Yet Evelyn was never at a loss for words: "Did you know that the wand they found on the scene of the crime was Mayfield's wand?"

Gwen gulped. Evelyn telling her that openly proved that she was not a permanently employed DoM staff member.

"No, I didn't. How do _you _know?"

"I … happened to overhear them when they came here today to lead him off. They… they did not exactly whisper." She blushed furiously.

Gwen frowned at her, sighing inwardly. _Is that the whole truth_? she wondered.

"Did you overhear anything else," she asked, trying to sound uninterested.

"No, no, of course not," mumbled Evelyn. She obviously had noticed that something had gone wrong.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

On their way to the Cenaculum Evelyn chatted about the weather, her two daughters, and her beautiful home in Bath, while Gwen, who only listened with half an ear, was trying to invent a pretence for her alleged search for Manisha.

The Cenaculum was all decorated in green today, the windows showing a beautiful green forest, blue skies, songbirds, squirrels and an occasional deer.

Gwen's stomach gave a funny lurch. It couldn't have been worse: Manisha was sitting at a table with Timothy, Alex, Ivo and – Crow, who threw her a look of deep distrust.

"There she is," Evelyn pointed out happily. Gwen accompanied her to the table where the three Death Chamber employees were sitting. She looked nervously at Manisha: "I tried to find you…"

"I know," she laughed, her white teeth glittering. "Suplinius told me. What did you want?"

"I…," Gwen stammered, "just wanted to ask whether you wanted to go with me to the Smoking Room after lunch," she finished lamely.

Crow's eyebrows shot upwards. Manisha chuckled and nodded: "With pleasure!"

Evelyn went to the counter. Gwen looked around and saw Isabelle waving at her frantically.

"Sorry," she said with relief. "It seems that my colleague needs me."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

"You just saved my life, you know," she whispered to Isabelle, who grinned back at her conspiratorially. "I'll tell you later."

Gwen nodded at Roberta and Honoria, who were both eating a baked potato with a huge mountain of salad. Roberta wore a beautiful royal blue tunic over black leather trousers and looked rather tired. Honoria was telling Roberta about muggle time travel movies, but Roberta didn't say a word. Gwen wondered why she wasn't sitting with Timothy as usual, and would have liked to hear something about Roberta's work in the Time Room. Timothy was nowhere to be seen.

"_D'accord, ma chère._ But I wanted to show you this," Isabelle handed her the Daily Prophet and pointed on an article at the bottom of the front page.

* * *

Mysterious Murder in the Death Chamber

By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter

A cold-blooded murder in the depths of the Department of Mysteries shocks the Ministry of Magic. According to well-informed sources, Archibald Dusk, an Unspeakable working in the Death Chamber, was murdered at his workplace on the morning of 21 April, presumably by the Killing curse.

Aurors are investigating the wizard's death, but up to now have not found any other clues that point to the murderer (see page 3 for the still fruitless hunt on Sirius Black).

How is it possible that an outsider broke into the high-security area, which is the Department of Mysteries? Are the Ministry and its security specialists, too, losing their grip? Unsurprisingly, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, was not available for comments. Is that due to the possibility that the murder might be an insider job? (see page 23 for further details on the Ministry of Magic's doubtable recruiting procedures)

Mediwizards pronounced the man dead at the scene.

The victim, aged 54, leaves behind his young wife, and an ex-wife.

* * *

"How… but that's impossible," Gwen gasped, while Isabelle was shushing her. "Who are those 'well-informed' sources?"

"_J'sais pas,_"Isabelle shrugged. "But we all know Rita Skeeter."

_At least she doesn't know about the Dark Mark,_ Gwen thought, _so her sources don't know either. What does this mean? Yet she knows that Aurors are involved, not Hit Wizards…I wonder…_

"What's the matter, girls?" asked Honoria, who never read a newspaper, but lived in her own little universe. While Isabelle handed her the article, Gwen went to the counter to get a steak-and-kidney pie with chips. She needed something savoury today.

On her way back to the table she noticed Mabel Tancock, Vivi Gregorius and Amelia Robson sitting together. The latter worked in the Illness and Healing Room. Gwen considered for a moment, then went to talk to them.

"Hi Vivi," she sat beside the platinum blonde witch and whispered: "Do we still have some of those fake training brains?"

Vivi grinned and nodded: "Of course, my dear. I'm nearly finished. Want to come with me?"

"I am only starting."

"Oh, I see. You know what? Why don't you join me in the Hall of Prophecies, when you're finished? I'll be there with Bode."

Gwen smiled. "All right. See you later then." Then she returned to the table where Isabelle, Honoria and Roberta were sitting.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	12. Chapter 12

After finishing her lunch Gwen went to the table where Manisha was sitting. Luckily Crow had already left. When Manisha saw her, she beamed: "Nice of you to remember me, Gwen. I'm finished. Let's go!" She got up to join her on her way to the Smoking Room.

While they were walking along the corridor, Gwen was frantically searching for a topic of conversation. _I am such a bad small-talker, _she groaned inwardly.

She remembered her conversation with Evelyn and suddenly realised that she could just as well try to find out more about the murder, and ask Manisha some questions. This was quite unusual for an Unspeakable, and even more for her, but, after all, Manisha didn't know that and wasn't a permanent DoM employee. Perhaps she wouldn't notice? Hoping against all hope she grabbed her amethysts, wishing they could give her some courage.

"Erm… is Jacobus Mayfield still arrested?" Gwen asked after they had entered the lift, the golden grilles shut rattling behind them.

Manisha looked at her, astonished. "Yes, I think so," she said slowly.

"I don't understand that. I mean Archie told me that he worked with Mayfield."

Manisha looked a bit uncomfortable, but didn't say a word. Gwen took a deep breath and pressed on.

"Well, I've been wondering … they were a team, weren't they? But what were they working on. I mean, I know that you work on rebirth and reincarnation, Evelyn works on poisons, Crow on the process of natural death, Timothy on ghosts…"

"Shhhh," Manisha looked aghast. The golden grilles opened.

"Sorry," said Gwen, "but we were alone in the lift, weren't we?"

Manisha nodded. "I don't know on what they were working," she whispered. "I thought I wasn't told because I am not permanently employed – like Evelyn. She doesn't know either." She stopped and looked as if caught red-handed.

Gwen grinned inwardly, but did as if she hadn't noticed. "Maybe it was something dark," she whispered back. "I mean – you did see the Dark Mark, didn't you?" Gwen had seen her at the scene of the crime, so she wasn't giving away anything.

Manisha nodded. "Well… they were always working inside their office. They didn't use the interface, which I use very often…," she coughed and waved her red fingernails, "I mean … the Arch."

Gwen smiled. "Everyone has their own technical terms."

Manisha smiled conspiratorially, then put her index finger on her red lips and opened the door to the Smoking Room. A thick cloud of blue smoke engulfed them.

Gwen wondered whether Manisha was really trustworthy. _Well, who else could I ask to find out what Mayfield's and Dusk's field of activity was_, she wondered, fingering for her wand and cigarettes. An idea had formed in her head.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

After a pleasant conversation about metempsychosis they returned to the Circular Room, Manisha went back to the Death Chamber, while Gwen opened the door to the Time Room to get to the Hall of Prophecies. She could have passed through the Brain Room where a corridor behind the Planet Room led to the Hall, but she hoped to get a glimpse of Roberta. _And this way's shorter,_ she thought.

Gwen liked the lovely dancing sparkling light of the Time Room. _But the constant ticking would drive me mad,_ she thought, as she did every time she had to enter this room, which wasn't very often. She preferred the calm of her own working place.

She looked around. A lot of witches and wizards worked in here, some were sitting at the many desks, working alone on clocks or watches, some were standing in groups, talking softly. Several wizards were standing beside the huge crystal bell jar at the far end of the room. One was reading to the others from a big book.

Gwen took off her glasses and pointed her wand at them. "Tergeo," she muttered, and put them on again.

She found Roberta sitting alone at a desk full of time-turners. _Now, you've been very bold with Manisha, why don't you try with her, too,_ a voice inside her head told her. Gwen mustered all her courage and went to join Roberta.

"Hi there," she said trying to sound cheerful, while Roberta looked up from her work.

"Hi," she replied. "Wait a moment, I'll come back soon."

She gave the hour-glass necklace around her neck two turns, and suddenly vanished. Gwen would have been scared to death if she hadn't had some experience with time-turners (Norma had owned one, and while Gwen knew that that had been illegal, they had had a lot of fun experimenting with it).

So she looked quite relaxed when Roberta appeared out of thin air from the other end of the room.

"Sorry," the younger witch said. "I usually carry out my tests in a separate office." She pointed to the doors on the long side of the room. "But they're all occupied today." She looked tired. There were dark circles under her eyes.

"But isn't the prime rule of working with time-turners that 'you mustn't be seen'?" Gwen whispered.

Roberta waved a careless hand. "We're in the Time Room. That's nothing special in here." And she added in a sarcastic voice: "Did you know that the majority of occupational accidents happen in here? Even the lethal ones. Not in the Death Chamber, as one would suppose…" She suddenly stopped, turning pale. "Sorry, I didn't mean…"

"It's all right," Gwen said soothingly.

Roberta sat down, resting her elbows on the desk and cupping her chin in her hands. "I am really sorry, what must you think of me?" Now she looked nearly exhausted.

Gwen cocked her head: "Hem, that you're a bit overworked, perhaps?"

Roberta gave a feeble smile. "Yeah, I am." She rubbed her forehead, and suddenly became businesslike. "How can I help you, Gwen?"

"Oh, no," Gwen said, "I just wanted to say hello, I am going to meet Vivi in the Hall, you know. How is Amber Dancer, by the way?"

"Oh, fine, thanks," Roberta looked pleased. "He is such a dear. Would you like to ride him again?"

Gwen gulped, but forced herself to smile: "Oh, that would be lovely, but I can't do it alone, you know."

"We can make an appointment one of these days," Roberta suggested. "When the weather gets better, I mean."

"All right," Gwen's stomach gave a jolt, she smiled broadly. "See you!" _Oh, I am really good at being courageous, _she thought happily while she passed through the Time Room, nearly floating some inches over the ground, now on her way to the Hall of Prophecies. All the ticking of the clocks and watches sounded like a lovely melody in her head.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

When she entered the vast cold Hall of Prophecies, she put on the black wool cardigan she was carrying with her ever since she had been working with Crow in the Death Chamber. After the brightness of the Time Room her eyes needed some seconds to adapt to the dim Hall, lit only by blue-flame candles. She held her breath. There were soft voices in the distance, but she couldn't see anyone. _Where is Vivi?_

She moved carefully along the rows of towering shelves in which thousands of dusty glass orbs were standing. She found the height and dimness of the Hall intimidating, and wondered how the Keepers could work here every day.

When Gwen got within hearing distance she could distinguish two female voices, and one male. She suddenly stopped, unseen behind the rows of shelves, and listened.

"… for nearly twenty years. Why do you want to know that?"

"It's just routine questions, Mrs Tancock. And when were you divorced?"

"November last year."

"And … who of you dissolved the marriage?"

"I assume this is relevant?"

"Anything might be."

"Archibald wanted the divorce, so he could marry … that other woman."

"You didn't want to?"

"Well, I did after I knew that he was involved with her."

"And before that?"

"Before that? I didn't."

"Where have you been yesterday morning?"

"Well… first at home, and then I came here."

"What time was that?"

"I've got the morning shift this week, so I started at eight o'clock. I suppose I arrived some quarter of an hour earlier."

"You came here directly?"

"What do you mean, directly?"

"You didn't go to the canteen or anyone else's office first?"

"No. I don't think so. I went through the Time Room, and came here."

"And you didn't notice anything unusual on your way to the Hall of Prophecies?"

"No."

"And you never left during your shift?"

"No." The voice sounded indignant. "Now, that's the job of a Keeper, isn't it? To stay put."

"Can anyone confirm your statement?"

"No. We're usually alone on our shifts."

"So you could have left the Hall for some time?"

The voice gave a raspish laugh. "Yes, but I didn't sneak out to kill my ex-husband. If I had killed anyone, it would have been the … other woman, wouldn't it?"

Now the male voice intervened: "Please, Mrs Tancock, no one's accusing you. We're just doing our job. There are two ways that lead from this Hall of Prophecies to the Death Chamber, aren't there?"

"Well. One would be through the Time Room, the other through the corridor alongside the Planet Room. You'd have to go to the very far end of the Hall. There's a door."

"The Time Room is occupied in the morning?"

"Yes," the voice said sourly, "some of them start very early, and sometimes even work in the night."

"When did you finish your shift?"

"At two o'clock. I'm leaving now."

"Do you know whether your ex-husband had any enemies?"

"No, I don't think so. He was a quiet man. He worked hard. He sometimes came late from work."

"What was his work in the Death Chamber?"

"I can't tell you. You'd have to ask Mrs Hill, I suppose."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	13. Chapter 13

"What are you doing in here, Miss Bale, eavesdropping behind shelves?" said a soft voice behind Gwen.

She whirled around. She hadn't heard the sallow-skinned wizard approaching. Broderick Bode was looking at her with mournful eyes.

"I am not … eavesdropping, Mr Bode," she replied in an equally soft voice, hoping that the three wouldn't notice them. "I wanted to meet Vivi Gregorius, she asked me to come here. But I can't find her."

The voices nearby had become silent.

"Oh, Miss Gregorius – she's gone. She was in a hurry as usual. She came here to bring us two new prophecies, and vanished."

"It is really interesting in how many places you work," Mrs Beresford, clad in dark green robes, had appeared out of thin air with Jonathan in tow. Mabel Tancock wasn't with them anymore.

"Isn't it," mumbled Gwen quick-wittedly, turning back to Bode. "Do you know where I can find her, Mr Bode?"

"Unfortunately not, Miss Bale."

Gwen gave a sigh, and said: "All right, if you happen to see her again, please tell her that I am looking for her."

Bode nodded.

"Could I have a word with you?" Mrs Beresford asked a bit impatiently.

Gwen slowly turned to look at her. "Of course."

"You said you entered the Department of Mysteries at half past seven yesterday morning. It's come to my knowledge that you usually do not start working that early. What did you do before you entered the Death Chamber?"

Gwen frowned. Her memory of yesterday morning seemed blurred and hazy. "I…I had some calculations to do, I think. Sorry about that but I remember that I was feeling rather bad yesterday morning."

"Why was that?"

"I… had gone to bed late the night before." Gwen didn't want to tell her about the red wine.

"Calculations?" Jonathan was making notes with a quill.

"Yep, and I had to review a report for Ad," she suddenly remembered. "Some values seemed to differ too much."

"And why did you start that early? Were these urgent tasks?" asked Mrs Beresford.

Jonathan looked uncomfortably at the tip of his boots.

"No." Gwen suddenly felt trapped. "Listen, I really don't know why I came so early, and I know that I usually enter at nine o'clock sharp. That may look suspicious to you, but I knew I had to work with Mr Crow later on, so I wanted to profit from my waking early and get some Brainroom work done beforehand. That's all."

Jon smiled encouragingly while Mrs Beresford frowned.

"You said you didn't see anything unusual while you were working in the Brain Room, just your colleagues entering."

"Yes."

"Where did they come from?"

"What? I mean…?"

"Did they enter the Brain Room through the door from the Circular Room?"

Gwen considered. "Yes. At least I think so."

"The first person you mentioned was Mrs Honoria Brum."

"Did I?" Gwen looked irritated.

"Did she come from the Circular Room?"

"I think so. Where else should she have come from?"

"From her office. From the Planet Room. From the corridor to the Hall of Prophecies. From the Death Chamber," Mrs Beresford suggested. "What was she doing?"

"She… she prepared a potion for me because I was feeling ill." Gwen felt suddenly thirsty.

"And then she went to work?" asked Mrs Beresford, while Jonathan was scribbling away.

"No. She wanted to leave, in fact. She had come from a … night-shift, so to say."

"Why did she come back then?"

"Oh, I don't know." Gwen felt a bit annoyed by now. Apart from that, she was surprised how bad her memory worked due to the hangover she had felt that morning. "Perhaps she wanted to get some things from her office before returning home. Why don't you ask her?"

"I certainly will," Mrs Beresford said quickly. "Can you remember having heard anything from the adjacent Death Chamber?"

Gwen gave a hollow laugh. "You surely know that all the rooms in the Department of Mysteries are sound-proof."

"Did you hear anything unusual in your room? Or did you smell anything? Taste or feel anything?"

_She is just doing her job, and she does it all right,_ Gwen thought. "Let me think. I felt really bad that morning, you know."

"All right. You think about it. Please tell me if you remember anything. Anything might be important."

"So it wasn't Mayfield?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything about our investigation." Her deep voice was very calm now. "It's only us who are allowed to ask questions." She shrugged.

"Is that everything?" Gwen asked.

"That's everything for the moment, thank you," Mrs Beresford gave a cool smile.

"See you then," Gwen answered coolly, wondering why she hadn't been asked about her other colleagues. Mrs Beresford said good-bye.

Jon waved and said: "See you!", forming the word 'tomorrow' with his lips, as Marilyn Beresford had already turned around.

Gwen wondered where to provide the training brains for Crow. Surely the wizard was already marvelling where she was. She heaved a sigh and headed off to find Vivi.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Saturday, 23 April 1994_

They had almost finished their breakfast – toast, fried eggs, sausages, bacon, beans and tomatoes –, when Hugh leant back comfortably, while Miss Carthew took a last sip of her cup of Earl Grey tea.

"I am going to apparate to the Wiz-Co, have you got your grocery lists ready?" Gwen asked, stretching and patting her belly. This morning she had finally been able to sleep a bit longer than in the last few days. Yesterday had been tiring, she had spent the afternoon teaching Crow spells to fend off an aggressive brain, and the evening to conduct some occlumency tests with the brain "Ernie".

As usual Miss Carthew handed her a piece of parchment written in her neat handwriting, while Hugh – also as usual – hastily looked around to find some parchment and draw up an ad-hoc list.

After Hugh had finished, Miss Carthew got up to leave, and Wookey busily cleared the table. The sun was shining through the windows onto the round wooden table in Hugh's kitchen.

"What are you going to do today?" asked Gwen.

Hugh got up and opened the door to his workshop next door. "This," he replied, pointing at a heap of small childrens' broomsticks. "They begged me to return them next week." He cocked his head, twitching his beard. "And you? Are you coming to my brother's pub tonight? There will be some good music."

Gwen shook her head. "No, I can't, I am going to meet an old schoolmate in Hogsmeade."

They said their good-byes and Gwen returned to her cottage to get some money and bags, and light a cigarette before apparating to Tinworth.

She grinned when she looked at the card she had drawn this morning, and which was still lying on her kitchen table: Two of Cups. It showed a man and a woman, each holding a golden chalice. A caduceus was rising between them, between the great wings of which there was a lion's head. _Love? Friendship? A pledge? Unity? _This might become an interesting day.

There was a tiny park near the main road where she usually apparated behind an elder bush. Some sparrows were making a racket in a puddle.

Squinting against the sun and the forget-me-not-blue sky she took a deep breath. The air was warmer now and smelled of spring. Moving on, Gwen tossed the butt away and strolled along the High Street looking at the shops, and greeting some of the muggles and wizards passing by. Then she turned left, went up a small lane, turned again left and entered a tiny cobbled street lined with small cottages and an abandoned warehouse.

She looked around. When she was certain that noone watched, she extracted her wand and touched with it the high gate that lead to the yard in front of the building. She murmured "6-4-2-2-4" and opened the gate. In that instant the whole scenery changed. Instead of the dilapidated warehouse a flashy blue building appeared, bearing the sign "Wizarding Comestible Goods".

Witches and wizards were moving around, some Apparating or Disapparating directly within the yard. Two witches collided while apparating on nearly the same spot, bumping against each other and swearing loudly. Others flew in on broomsticks, concealed under a Disillusionment charm. There was a counter where broomsticks could be checked in, and a row of boxes for flying horses and hippogriffs. Security wizards were controlling what happened on the yard.

Gwen got a hovering trolley from the trolley stand (after inserting a knut into the slot since she'd lost her plastic coin), and entered the wizarding supermarket. She liked shopping and prowled the aisles, always checking the three lists she'd got with her. A soft tune was playing. She started loading her trolley with fruit, vegetables and magic herbs, humming to herself. Then she went on to get pink milk, singing eggs and easy-to-spread butter.

"Hi, Gwen!"

She looked up from Hugh's list. She was trying to decipher a word on his list that looked like 'red dragon mustard'.

"Oh – hallo, Roberta, how're you?" she beamed and blushed. Roberta lived in Tinworth, like several other wizarding people.

"Fine, thanks," Roberta nodded, her grey eyes glittering, and reached for a package of green spaghetti. She looked a bit better than the last time Gwen had seen her, and was wearing a flashy red shell suit.

Suddenly a friendly female voice sounded out of nowhere: "Bargain of the week: premium state-of-the art precision foe glass, only 40 galleons, check out this and many other bargains on our bargain counter. It's a great time to shop!" A bit lower (and faster) the voice added: "Offers only available whilst stocks lasts."

"What are you going to do this weekend?" They moved their hovering trolleys side by side.

Gwen blushed even more and dived for some cat food tins for Napoleon. He loved salmon and dormouse best.

"I'll have to catch up on some work," Gwen muttered, sighing deeply. It was true, Ademarus had asked her to finish a mountain of work before Monday. They usually did not take their work home, but Ad had seemed to be quite nervous about something. While Roberta got some Happy Hippo treats from a shelf, Gwen asked: "What do those contain?"

"Assortment of dried insects, you wouldn't want to know exactly, would you?"

Gwen laughed. They had reached the bargain counter. Gwen rummaged through a pile of talking mirrors in different sizes and shapes, wondering whether she wanted a new one for her bathroom.

"I was thinking about that hippogriff ride we were talking about. If you're tied-up today and tomorrow, what about next weekend, then?" Roberta asked while rifling through a heap of copper and silver cauldrons.

Gwen beamed: "All right! I suppose I'll be finished with … my other work by then."

Roberta looked at her, slightly bewildered.

"With Crow," Gwen whispered. "It's difficult for me at the moment – with two jobs, I mean."

Roberta nodded sympathetically. They arranged a meeting Saturday in a fortnight. Then Gwen checked the content of her trolley, and proceeded to the checkout counter, while Roberta stayed behind to continue her shopping.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	14. Chapter 14

Night had already fallen, the first stars were sparkling in the sky and a cool wind was blowing, when Gwendolyn apparated on a deserted street near Hogsmeade. On her way to the main street she buried her nose into her scarf, hurrying as fast as she could to get to the Three Broomsticks. She was a bit late, but she had got astray several times. Apparating was not her favourite way of travelling.

In the far distance she saw a Dementor floating in the sky and shivered. She had, of course, read about the heightened security measures in Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, but seeing them in real life was something different.

She averted her gaze and looked straight forward. The warm light of the pub was glowing through the window panes. She was looking forward to a little break as she had been drawing up reports, and verifying calculations the whole day. And she still wasn't finished.

When she opened the door to the pub she heard cheery voices and laughter, a pleasant warmth engulfed her, and she suddenly remembered her school days. They had come here so many times, enjoying the convivial atmosphere, sipping their butterbeers, or even trying some firewhiskey. She took off her fogged glasses, cleared them with a Tergeo spell and put them on again.

She caught sight of Jonathan who was sitting on a small table in the far corner of the pub, waving to her, and joined him. When she had taken off her cloak, gloves, and scarf, and taken a seat, Madam Rosmerta approached them, asking what they would like to drink. Jon opted for a butterbeer – "just like in the good old days", he grinned – while Gwen ordered a mulled mead.

When Madam Rosmerta had walked away on her high heels, swaying her hips, Jon addressed Gwen. "I am glad to meet you at last. After all those years! You look great."

Gwen looked at him, a bit surprised by the look of true admiration she saw in his eyes.

"Thanks," she said awkwardly, fidgeting a little. "I never knew you wanted to become an Auror," she added in a hushed voice. "Though I do remember your NEWTs were brilliant…"

_With the exception of Potions, _she thought, _weren't you abysmal in Potions?_ She herself had got an Outstanding in her Potions NEWTs.

"Well, you are right I didn't consider it at first, did a lot of other things before I became an Auror. It's such an interesting job. And I am doing fine. And you?"

"Me, too, usually," she answered. "Well, at the moment it's different, of course. With that … incident in the Death Chamber, you know…" _What an elegant change of topic,_ she thought.

"I hope we haven't given you too hard a time." He looked a bit miserable.

Gwen shrugged: "I suppose you're just doing your job, aren't you?"

Jon nodded and whispered: "We are. But all those Unspeakables and mysteries." He frowned.

Gwen couldn't suppress a grin. To investigate in the DoM of all places had to be a real nightmare for an Auror. He returned her grin.

"And there is a lot of pressure from above, as you can imagine. A murder in the Ministry! Besides, Sirius Black is still on the run. And there are even darker rumours…" He stopped, looking around.

Gwen looked at him, curious. This was going better than she had thought. _Was Miss Carthew right?_ she thought. _Has it something to do with You-know-who?_

At that moment Madam Rosmerta brought them a bottle and a steaming mug. He raised his mug to her, she followed suit, looking into his brown eyes. Then both took a sip from their drinks.

"Aaaah," Jon sighed with pleasure. "Best butterbeer in the world!"

Gwen smiled. "You may be right there." Then she continued talking under her breath: "Do you think Black is involved in that… incident?" That was an audacious step forward. _If he refuses to answer that one_…

"Well, there was the Dark Mark, and he's a known Death Eater. We must take him into account. But we must take pretty much into account, you know."

Gwen sighed: "Who would have thought that Sirius Black would become a Death Eater. I mean, we've known him all at school, even though he was only in second year when we left. He seemed so glad to be in Gryffindor – so unlike his whole Slytherin family."

"Yeah," Jon agreed, "he was big pals with James Potter and his friends. But – we think," he lowered his voice, "that all this was cleverly planned a long time ahead."

"Ah." Gwen looked impressed, thinking of the good-looking dark-haired boy she, being in Ravenclaw, had only seen from afar. "But how could he have entered our Department?" she whispered.

"That's what we're asking ourselves, too," he whispered back, taking a draught from his butterbeer.

She squinted at him: "Oh, you think he must have had help, then?"

"Someone must have helped the murderer from inside the DoM, no matter who the murderer was – Black, or anyone else. That's obvious, isn't it? Apart from that some think that Black's here at Hogsmeade and wants to get at Harry Potter, too."

He leaned forward over the table, looking straight into her eyes: "How well do you know the Death Chamber staff?" His voice was barely audible.

She flinched. "Not very well. I've just started a … a project with Crow, as you know, and I think I'll finish that soon enough." She sipped her mulled mead. "At least I hope so," she added as an afterthought.

"You don't like him?"

"He, err…, he's a bit … withdrawn."

"Everyone's as close as a clam in your Department," Jon chuckled.

Suddenly Gwen heard a familiar voice, and searched the room. It wasn't easy to distinguish people through the smoke and haze of the pub. Then she spotted Honoria, enjoying a butterbeer with a woman Gwen didn't know. Both were deeply engrossed in conversation.

She tried to wave, but Honoria didn't see her.

"Who is that?"

"Honoria, my colleague, don't you know her yet?"

"Ah, yes, now I recognise her." He turned back to Gwen. "Listen, Gwen, perhaps we could stay in contact and you could tell me things you … learn when you're working in the Death Chamber…?" His question hung in the air like the smoke from the many cigarettes.

"Whom do you suspect?" Gwen asked, not replying to his question.

"Everyone's a suspect in our field of work. Even you," he grinned. "I, of course, trust you and believe that you are not involved with Death Eaters. And that you're clever. I am sure you can be of help."

"I'll do what I can," she smiled, and lit a cigarette. "But as I said: We'll soon be finished, and then I'll return to the Brain Room." She gave a contented smile.

Some goblins at a nearby table started singing a raucous song in Gobbledegook.

She took a drag from her cigarette: "What about Mrs Beresford? I mean – do you like working with her?"

"She's a nice guy, you know, she seems a bit harsh, but she's all right. Got on to the track of some dark wizards, she did," he said, admiringly.

"That's good to know." She took a deep breath and screwed up her courage. "Tell me, Jon, who reported the murder?" She looked at him from under her eyelashes. "And when?"

The goblins broke into laughter and applause, and ordered more butterbeer. Madam Rosmerta smiled and obliged.

"Hey Gwen, it's usually me who asks the questions…," Jon tried to slow her down.

"Well," she raised her hands, "if you want me to help you down there in the Death Chamber, I'll need some information."

He sighed: "It was Tim. Timothy Oakden. He reported the murder at a quarter past eight."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Monday, 25 April 1994_

"Now, now, you _must _tell me how it was," pouted Isabelle. Today she was wearing high-necked beige-coloured robes and a beautiful amber collar. Gwen loved Isabelle pronouncing the word 'must'. The 'u' sounded like something between an o and an e.

It was only eight o'clock in the morning and they were alone in their tiny office. The sky outside the window was grey, the low clouds were heavy with rain. As usual, Isabelle had brewed an excellent coffee, and they both had a cup while Gwen was poring over her long columns of numbers and values.

"It was nice," answered Gwen, checking something on her list. "He's a nice guy, Jon. And he has seen a lot of the world. Went abroad after school, you know, went to Tanzania, Argentina, Madagascar, and Iceland. Then he worked as a dragon keeper for some years. And…"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "_Alors _– did he say anything about …," she jerked her head in the direction of the Death Chamber. She was sitting in front of a small tank that contained two brains, which were emanating thin silver threads.

"I think he wanted my help," Gwen grinned.

"Oh! And – will you help him?"

"Of course. I scratch his back, and he scratches mine."

"_Comment_?" Isabelle looked aghast. "What…? In the pub? In front of all people?"

Gwen laughed, and put her parchment aside. "It's only a figure of speech. I'll help him, and he'll help me – even though he doesn't know the latter…"

Someone knocked at the door.

"Enter," both witches chorused and Ademarus opened the door.

He went to Gwen's desk, and handed her the reports she had issued on the weekend. "Good job, Gwendolyn, thank you very much." He turned to Isabelle: "I made some tests with the Indicimaginis spell on the weekend." Gwen rolled her eyes, unseen by Ademarus. "We wanted to find a way to stabilise it when working on memories outside a brain. I am quite confident I've found one and suggest we continue our last weeks' experiments…"

"Ad, I want to help, too," Gwen interrupted. "You wanted to show me that spell."

He looked at her, apologetically, and coughed: "I am sorry, Gwendolyn, but Mrs Hill asked me to tell you to come to her office a nine o'clock."

"So?" she said. "I won't be away forever?" She pretended to be undisturbed by the fact that she was summoned before their boss.

Ad blushed, and this made Gwen more nervous than anything else. What was this about?

"I'll show you the spell as soon as you're free," he promised rather cryptically, not looking at her. Then he left the room as fast as he could.

Isabelle and Gwen looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"What does that mean?" Gwen frowned. She remembered this morning's tarot card – the Queen of Swords – and felt uneasy.

"_J'sais pas,_" Isabelle replied. "But don't worry, I'll show you the spell as soon as I can. I am not as deft as Ad, but I can show you the basics. We can practise after work, _si tu veux_."

Gwen smiled at her. Isabelle was a dear.

~ooOOooOOoo~


	15. Chapter 15

At some minutes to nine Gwen left her office and crossed the Brain Room to get to the Circular Room. Bob was busy cleaning the tank walls with the help of a variant of the Tergeo spell. Honoria was sitting at one of the desks, scribbling hurriedly with her lilac-coloured quill on a piece of parchment, while Firmin was talking with Ademarus at some distance.

When Honoria looked up, Gwen waved at her, remembering she hadn't been able to talk to her in the Three Broomstick. She put it into the back of her mind. She wanted to be on time for her appointment with Agatha Hill.

Inside the Circular Room she opened the door with the blue inscription 'Head of Department'. She entered a tiny office where a young blond wizard in elegant dark-blue robes looked up from a meticulously orderly desk. A small sign on it read "Baran Boswell, Executive Assistant".

"Good afternoon, Gwendolyn," he said in his usual friendly manner.

"Good afternoon, Baran," she replied, "Mrs Hill wanted to see me at nine o'clock."

"That's all right," he beckoned her, "go ahead. The others are already in there." He ticked off her name in his appointment book.

She approached the door behind Baran, and heard soft voices through the door of Hill's office. She wondered whether this boded ill or well.

She knocked at the door and heard Agatha Hill's clear voice saying "Enter".

Agatha Hill was about 60 years old, had short white hair and keen steel-blue eyes. She wore her usual light-grey robes, and a big round jasper pendant. She was now coming forward behind a massive classic desk made from cherry wood with a tiffany lamp on it. The wall behind the desk was lined with matching bookshelves. The other persons in this large office were two Aurors, Marilyn Beresford, and Jonathan Hope, and the unfathomable Suplinius Crow. The Aurors looked at Gwen expectantly, Crow wore more of a scowl.

"Good morning", said Gwen.

"Good morning, Miss Bale," Mrs Hill greeted her in her clear voice. The others nodded and echoed her welcome. Mrs Hill invited everyone to take a seat in the sitting area on the other side of her large office. A silk brocade sofa and some matching armchairs were grouped around a cherrywood table topped with glass. A house-elf hurried in and Mrs Hill asked everyone what they wanted to drink. Gwen ordered a pumpkin juice.

Once all had settled down, Agatha Hill announced: "Now that we're all assembled, we can get down to business." The elf left the room, mumbling under his breath to memorise the orders.

"As you know there has been a murder in the Department of Mysteries, or, to be exact, in the Death Chamber."

Suddenly it was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. Gwen held her breath.

"Mrs Beresford and Mr Hope are investigating this abominable crime in our midst, and I am really grateful for their efficient and discreet way of proceeding," she nodded in their direction. Mrs Beresford frowned, Jonathan gave a weak smile. "Since this Department has an interest in the prompt solution of the case, which is," she took a deep breath, "certainly not easy due to the secrecy all our members are bound to, I'd like to make a proposal to support the Aurors."

Crow cleared his throat, but didn't say a word.

The elf entered carrying a silver tray and handed out the drinks they had ordered. Mrs Beresford fingered her pocket, and Gwen suddenly thought she wanted to light a cigarillo, which she, of course, did not. Gwen hid her grin by taking a sip from her juice.

"Thank you, Diggy," Mrs Hill addressed the elf, who bowed his way out of the office.

Mrs Hill continued: "After conferring with Mrs Beresford we decided to take an … uncommon, let's say, innovative approach to solve the issue. We decided to get the victim's brain and try to get from it clues regarding the murderer's identity."

Gwen stared at her, while Crow drew himself up on his seat.

"I wanted to ask Miss Bale and Mr Crow, who have already started a fruitful cooperation, to work together on this rather delicate assignment, Miss Bale providing her expertise as a Brain Room member, and Mr Crow contributing his valuable insight on the Death Chamber work and members. I'd like you two to extract memories from the victim's brain, which might indicate who the murderer was."

Gwen's immediate impulse was to jump up, cry out loud and refuse, yet she didn't say a word and remained seated like a wooden statue. Crow, who had just risen an eyebrow, finally spoke: "And where do you want us to carry out the investigation?"

"Ah, a very good question, Mr Crow. I thought we'd use the late Mr Dusk's own office." Gwen gave a shiver. "It's where Mrs Beresford and Mr Hope have pitched their camp in the Department. You two will report to Mrs Beresford and Mr Hope, and you are, of course, being released, at least partly, from your usual work."

She looked at them enquiringly. "Any questions?"

Gwen gulped. "I… I am not sure whether I can work on the brain of a person I have known in life."

Crow looked at her unfathomably.

Agatha Hill's eyes softened. "I see. Please think about it. I'd like you to join the team, since I appreciate your work, and your team spirit. Moreover you have already worked in the Death Chamber. And please consider that what you'll be doing is in Archibald's and Eleanor's best interest."

"Does Ademarus know?" Gwen asked.

"I told him that you will probably go on working with Mr Crow for a while, and for some more hours, nothing else," Agatha Hill replied. "The fewer people know, the better."

Gwen suddenly grinned inwardly. The moment they disappeared inside Archie's former office, everyone would guess what was going on. _All those open secrets in the Department of Mysteries_…

Then she heaved a deep sigh. "It will be difficult work, though, since the brain in question was not … er … conserved _immediately_ after the person's death."

"Good observation, Miss Bale, I've thought about that, and we won't blame you for any mistakes or delays this is going to produce," Mrs Hill smiled at her. "I'd like to ask both of you to inform me by two o'clock whether you accept this assignment or not."

She got up from her chair. It was a clear dismissal, and everyone left the room, Mrs Beresford and Jonathan whispering, Suplinius Crow smirking subtly.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Thursday, 28 April 1994_

Gwen gritted her teeth. Small pearls of sweat started to form on her forehead when she tried to retain the tiny strand of memory inside the brain, which was swimming in a small tank on a table before her. The strand wafted on her wand for some seconds. Jon, who was sitting at a desk, perusing some files, lifted his head.

Then the gossamer strand dissolved in a pearly-white spray even before Gwen could extract it completely from the brain. She cursed under her breath. Jon hastily turned back to his documents, Crow frowned.

"I have the impression that it won't work this way," Crow commented silkily.

"And what other way do you suggest?" She was fuming inwardly. They had tried for days to identify and isolate memories, but it seemed impossible.

As no-one answered, she closed the tank, laid her wand on the desk, and collapsed into a chair.

A greyish-green potted wormwood in the corner of the office was singing softy: "I like bananas, coconuts and grapes. That's why they call me Tarzan of the Apes."

Gwen had to laugh in spite of herself. The plant had been a bright spot in the gloomy and sober office, even though its songs were rather silly. Jonathan grinned at her.

"It's lunchtime," he said, obviously glad to see her laughing. "Let's all go to the Cenaculum."

Gwen sighed, got up and followed him, Crow stayed behind since he wanted to "get some work done in his own office", as he explained.

"Don't you worry so much," Jon tried to soothe her, "remember that Agatha Hill was perfectly aware of the fact that this might be a very difficult task."

Gwen gave a somewhat forced smile. "You're right, but still – we have not been able to identify one single memory. And… and I'd like to finish this to get back to my colleagues, and to my own project."

"Don't you like being with me… with us?"

She looked into his brown eyes. _What does he mean?_

"I really don't mind working with you, but Crow…?"

Crow's attitude towards her hadn't changed a bit. And when Jacobus Mayfield had suddenly returned and been asked to use Crow's office, since Crow worked with Gwen and the Aurors in Archie's and Mayfield's office, Crow's mood hadn't improved either. He hurried back to his own office as often as he could. Gwen was not sure whether he did that to carry on his own research, or to watch over Mayfield.

When they had reached the Cenaculum, Gwen looked around the large staff restaurant, which, today, was flooded with sunlight. She went for some macaroni and cheese, and sat down with Isabelle and Ademarus. At the table on their left Honoria, Roberta and Timothy were talking about Muggle ghost trains, Timothy laughed heartily. Gwen watched him for a while.

"Muggles think that ghosts are something creepy, something to be afraid of," he chuckled. "But on special occasions they disguise as ghosts, even their children. Some muggles are very fascinated by ghosts. They even try to get in contact with them."

Suddenly someone tapped Gwen on the shoulder. She looked around and nearly choked on her pasta.

"Hallo, Eleanor, how… how are you?" Gwen blushed furiously because, as usual, she felt she hadn't found the right words.

"May I sit down with you?" Eleanor's words were nearly a whisper.

"Of course," Gwen drew back the chair at her side. Some people stared at the blonde widow, but she sat down rapidly with her plate and glass of pumpkin juice, and turned to Gwen.

"I can't stand staying at home any longer," she muttered, replying to Gwen's unasked question. "I am going crazy if I don't _do _anything. Everything at home reminds me of…"

She stopped and took a deep breath.

Gwen nodded and patted her hand awkwardly.

"I heard that you and the Aurors are trying to help with the investigation?"

Gwen withdrew her hand at once and made a noncommittal noise. She had been informed that the widow had been asked to approve their work.

"Have you found out anything already?" Eleanor whispered, a single tear glittering in her beautifully shaped eyes, which she fought back fiercely.

Gwen hesitated. She wasn't sure whether she was allowed to talk about their investigation.

Suddenly they observed how Mabel Tancock left the room. Before she closed the door behind her she gave Eleanor a piercing look of contempt. Eleanor shifted in her seat and murmured something Gwen didn't understand.

"What did you say?" She took a forkful of her macaroni and immediately spilled tomato sauce on her violet-coloured robes.

"Have you seen how she looked at me? I don't understand her. Why does she still … hate me?"

Gwen didn't say a word, but merely shrugged. Sometimes Eleanor seemed so unexperienced and naïve. _Mabel and Archie have been married for a long time before he met you, I understand why she doesn't like you._ Then she could have slapped herself and felt sorry for this young widow who looked around as if she were alone in the world and had no one to care for her.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	16. Chapter 16

_Saturday, 7 May 1994_

"Alone?"

They were standing on a flat green cliff where the first bright yellow dandelions showed up. Sea waves broke against the rocks in the depth and a cold wind was blowing. Amber Dancer ruffled his feathers, and Roberta fed him some Hippo treats, patting his crest.

"Why not? We've been flying for a long while, now you can try to ride him on your own."

Gwen fumbled nervously with her packet of cigarettes, but didn't dare to light one, as she thought that Rob wouldn't like it.

"You're right, we've been flying quite a while. Let's have a break," Gwen suggested, eyeing the cliffs, "it's very beautiful here."

"All right then, let's have our picnic here." Roberta extracted some acid-green chewing gums, took one and offered Gwen another. "Do you like the sea?"

"Yes, I live near the sea," Gwen took the proffered gum. "What is it?"

"Cheer-up gum. Makes you happy and perhaps – a bit braver."

"Really?" Gwen chewed the gum slowly, while they spread out a fluffy checkered blanket, and opened the bagpacks they had brought. Roberta just grinned.

Gwen poured some tea into their cups while Roberta put their sandwiches and some fruit on a plate. Then she sat down, took a cup and wrapped herself tightly into her thick woolen cloak.

"Do you know where we are exactly?" Gwen asked.

Rob smiled, her grey eyes shining in the sun. "Near Bude. Did you like the ride?"

"Yep," Gwen replied truthfully. Sitting behind Rob she had been able to relax more and more, appreciating the flight over the Cornish coast.

"I haven't seen you lately in the Ministry. Are you still working with Crow?"

_Does she know that we help investigating the murder? _To Gwen it seemed everyone in the Department of Mysteries assumed as much by now. She was now lying flat on her back, one arm behind her head, nibbling some grapes. Keeping as near as possible to the ground seemed the best way to take shelter from the wind.

Up to now they had succeeded in extracting one single memory. It had been awfully blurred, but Crow insisted that he was able to identify two people in it: Archibald and Jacobus, which wasn't such a big surprise, since they had been working together.

"Yes, we're still working together, but I go back to the Brain room occasionally," Gwen replied.

She had asked Agatha Hill to return with her own team more often, and stay in touch with their project, since the investigation of the murder seemed to take longer than expected, and her boss had agreed. One reason for this was that the victim's brain, not having been conserved like their research brains, needed more pauses than those (a golden rule in magic brain research was that breaks had to be observed to protect them from exhaustion).

"Do you like the sea, too?"

"Yes, it's lovely." Roberta tossed Amber Dancer some more treats.

"And how's your work going? Still dealing with those time-turners?"

"Yes, that's my area of expertise. We're trying to refine their settings. Yesterday we took an inventory. We always do so at the beginning of the month." She suddenly stopped and frowned.

"What is it?" Gwen took a bite of a tuna fish sandwich.

"Uh, got some problem because we're missing some time-turners." She took a sip of her tea.

"What!" Gwen knew that they were very rare and desired and that the Ministry controlled them strictly.

"Yes, please – please don't tell anyone," Rob shushed her. "That's why I have to return to the Time Room later today. Graham is recounting them just now, but I want to check again in the evening, and I'm afraid that I'm not mistaken."

"And what will happen if they're – lost?"

"Hem, I don't know. It's never happened during my time there." She stroke her short black hair. "I mean, accidents _do _happen, you know. Like the missing hour glass three years ago… And there _are _rumours that five years ago someone opened the door to the Love Room."

Gwen looked sceptically, but then remembered the runespoor fangs venom incident: "How many time-turners are missing?"

„Two. I suppose they will skin us alive when they get to know it. But I think we'll try to find them first. Now how do you feel? Want to take a ride on Amber?"

Gwen plucked up her courage and nodded. They approached Amber Dancer, and bowed obediently. Gwen climbed clumsily onto the hippogriff, then Roberta handed her the reins and smiled.

"You'll like it," she assured her, while Gwen gripped the plumage on the hippogriff's neck tighter.

Rob patted Amber Dancer, whispered something into his ears, and he took off immediately. Gwen suppressed a scream when they left the ground, clinging to the beast's neck as tightly as she could. The wind was roaring in her ears and underneath she could see the wide grey sea. Roberta was just a small grey dot in the green surroundings.

She was slipping down the beast's back, and desperately tried to clamber up again. Suddenly she felt Amber Dancer trying to help her by adjusting his body horizontally so she could sit more at ease.

Gwen sighed with relief. She was even able to release her grip on his neck a bit, and looked around cautiously. The sky was azure and the sun was shining. Gwen smiled proudly. She was nearly enjoying this!

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Sunday, 14 May 1994_

"Nine o'clock, time to get up," piped the round red alarm-clock on Gwen's bedside locker. Gwen yawned heartily, stretched her limbs and started to think. _Today's the funeral. _

Napoleon peered through the crack of her bedroom door and miaowed. When Gwen didn't react immediately, he pitter-pattered in. _Who says that cats are pussyfooting?_ Gwen thought, still a bit tired. She really wasn't a morning person. Napoleon jumped on her bed, nudged her nose with his own gently, and collapsed beside her head, purring.

"All right, I've got your point," she laughed and propped herself up to get a better look at the alarm-clock. She took her glasses, cleaned them with a Tergeo spell and got up slowly. Then she opened the window and took a deep breath. The sky was grey, and some big black clouds started rolling in. _It's going to rain, _she thought.

Followed by Napoleon she traipsed to the kitchen, where the coal furnace was running, radiating a nice cosy warmth. Wookey was pouring steaming hot tea into Gwen's mug.

"Good morning, Wookey."

"Good morning, Miss."

While she was enjoying her bacon and eggs, and some toast, and Nap his favourite cat food, someone knocked outside. Gwen hastened to open the door. It was Isabelle, dressed in graceful black robes.

"_Bonjour_," she greeted her. "Oho, you're still in your pyjamas!"

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind," Gwen mumbled, "the funeral is at ten o'clock. Want to have breakfast with me?"

"Oh, I've already breakfasted with my children. And as they're going on a tour with their _papa, je m'suis dit, alors _I'll go to see Gwen and we can go to the funeral together."

"Nice idea, just let me finish this excellent breakfast. Do you fancy a cup of tea?"

"_Mais oui_."

Wookey beamed when Isabelle entered the kitchen, laid a second place in spite of Isabelle's protests, poured her some tea, and insisted on serving her some scrambled eggs. Gwen picked her dark-blue satin pouch containing her tarot cards, and drew a card without further ado.

"Are you sure it works if you don't concentrate properly?" Isabelle frowned.

"I can't help it this morning. I'll see in the evening. Let's consider it an experiment." Gwen contemplated the card showing one of the major Arcana, "Justice", a figure sitting between two grey pillars, holding a sword in her right and a pair of scales in her left hand. She wore a red gown and was sitting in front of a violet veil.

They hastened to finish their breakfast, trying in vain to prevent Wookey from serving them more tea.

After Gwen was finished in the bathroom, Isabelle helped her to decide what she should wear. There wasn't really much to chose from, let alone black robes, so they agreed on some dark aubergine-coloured ones. Gwen refused to magic them black. "I like that shade and I'm not sure I'll manage to re-Transfigurate it all right." At the last moment she put on her rock crystal pendant.

When they bid Wookey good-bye, the elf was running water in the sink to wash the dishes.

"Where is the portkey?" Isabelle asked, and Gwen pointed to an old plastic bottle lying on the ground.

"Ready?"

Isabelle nodded.

They both touched the bottle, and Gwen felt the weird sensation of being suddenly hooked behind the navel.

Their transport completed, they landed on a clearing near a small grove.

Several witches and wizards had already arrived, Gwen recognised Eleanor's long blonde hair, and the red-haired Lilian Scantlebury, the Planet Room manager. There were some other people, standing at her side. Gwen knew some of them by sight as they were Planet Room staff, the others were probably family or friends.

When Honoria, wearing black linen pants and tunic, and Ademarus, wearing his usual grey robes, arrived one after the other, a light drizzle started falling. Both were followed shortly afterwards by the elegant Vivi Gregorius, wearing noble anthracite robes flowing around her slim figure. An elegant shawl in the same colour covered her platinum blonde shock of hair.

Together they entered the grove, heading to a particularly beautiful beech where nearly the entire Death Chamber staff was already assembled. Tiny droplets of rain were speckling Alex Campbell's short white beard and Ivo Gilmour's spectacles. Mercia Borthwick, their team member, wore a black hat over her brown hair and had red eyes. Ivo Gilmour was patting her shoulder.

Manisha Cullen had applied just a pale lipstick, and not her usual bright red one. She was talking softly to Timothy Oakden, who looked tired and drawn, not at all his usual hale and hearty self. Manisha opened a black umbrella over their heads. Suplinius Crow was standing a bit separated beneath the beautiful beech, as did Jacobus Mayfield.

Suddenly a murmur could be heard, then all the attendants gathered behind the tree, where a small grave had been dug. A wood urn was standing beside it on a small pedestal. The dark clouds overhead began to thicken.

Silence fell, and an old witch in black robes started to play a lovely mournful tune on her harp, while two others held their umbrellas over her head to protect her from the drizzling rain. Tears were running down Eleanor's cheeks, and Gwen suddenly noticed Mrs Beresford and Jon standing in the background under an elder bush.

There was a slight commotion when Agatha Hill, their Head of the Department, wanted to start her eulogy, as Evelyn Anderson hurried to join the mourners, her face crimson, her long brown hair slightly tousled. "I am so sorry," she whispered, "dreadfully sorry". Suplinius Crow raised his eyebrows as high as they would go; Alex Campbell frowned at her.

Gwen was unable to concentrate to Hill's words, terms like _committed, trustworthy _and _cooperative _floated by, as she couldn't help observing the two Aurors, and what they were doing. Did they suspect anyone of those present? Cautiously, Gwen opened her own umbrella and tried to surreptitiously follow their glances. All of a sudden she noticed that she was even trying to read their minds, and she felt a bit ashamed.

Mrs Beresford was certainly watching Honoria. _This is laughable_, Gwen thought, _Hon wouldn't hurt a fly_. Jon seemed to observe the blond Timothy – _he is the one who found the dead, poor Timothy, this seems to have shocked him more than he lets on_ – and Mayfield. _So, even though they've released him, they still continue suspecting him_. Jon's glance wandered to the blonde widow, then to the people standing at her side. Mrs Beresford's gaze suddenly met her own, and Gwen looked down at once.

A second harp playing followed, as did a second eulogy by a friend – or was it a member? – of the family. The urn was put into the ground, and then everyone passed by the grave to give their blessings or say their farewells.

The rain drops were getting bigger. Gwen felt like she was in a bad dream, as if she wasn't really there. She was glad that Isabelle was walking in front of her, radiating tranquillity in every step she took. Gwen shivered. _I still can't believe it, _she thought. _But it has happened. Murder. In our midst. _Eleanor was sobbing, Lilian was standing beside her, one arm around her shoulders, as one after the other expressed their condolences to the grieving widow. It seemed to go on forever.

A wind arose, and the rain started falling in torrents.

"Are you invited to the funeral reception?" Isabelle whispered in Gwen's ear, after they had offered their sympathies.

"N-no, I think it's just family and close friends." Gwen was trying to see where the Aurors had gone. The last she had seen of them was their condoling Eleanor. It seemed that they had left already.

"But _je me suis pensé _– since she asked you to accompany her the _other _day…"

"No, she didn't invite me, and that's fine with me. She's got enough on her plate."

As people were standing in groups again, Ademarus and Honoria joined Gwen and Isabelle.

"Anyone fancies a cup of tea or coffee?" asked Honoria.

At first nobody answered. Then Isabelle said calmly: "You're right. This will help us to recover."

Everyone nodded, even Ademarus who normally wasn't what you'd call sociable.

They said good-bye to Eleanor who thanked them profusely for coming, and then marched away on the muddy ground, trying to find Honoria's portkey, which would bring them to her house.

Before they all grabbed the old yellow t-shirt, which was Honoria's portkey, they saw a small figure in the far distance. Gwen squinted her eyes, dabbing at her glasses. _That's Mabel Tancock, _she thought, recognising the erect walk of the tall witch.

She'll probably say goodbye to her ex-husband after everyone has gone. Can't blame her.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	17. Chapter 17

_Wednesday, 18 May 1994_

Gwen's hand stopped in mid-air, and she held her breath when she heard the angry voices behind the office door.

"…is really beyond me. Apart from arresting Mayfield, and releasing him afterwards you haven't done anything – productive…"

"Mr Crow, I am certainly not answerable to you. You cannot know what we do or don't do. Apart from that, it's you who won't tell me what tasks Mayfield and Dusks were entrusted with."

_Muff the Tragic Wagon, lived by the street  
__And rolled along the boulevard, through rain  
and snow and sleet._

That was obviously the singing wormwood in the far corner.

"Well, I can't because I don't know, and if I knew I wouldn't be allowed to tell you," the first voice snarled.

"See?" Jon sighed. "It's really difficult investigating anything in this Department. What – er –outstanding progress do you expect?"

_Little Tommy Pumpkin loved that wagon Muff,  
__And rolled him home and filled him up,  
With toys and other stuff._

Small pearls of sweat started to form on Gwen's forehead. She took a deep breath and decided to enter the room.

"Hi there again," she greeted them vaguely, looking at neither of the two to avoid their eyes. Then she opened the vial with the green liquid Bob had given her some minutes earlier, and removed the lid of their tank to pour it in in order to stabilise the preservation solution.

Suplinius Crow was still scowling, and didn't say a word. He joined Gwen near the tank, where the victim's brain was swimming in the liquid. Gwen bought some time by cleaning her glasses.

_Together they would travel along the avenue  
__Tommy hanging out his leg would scuff his Sunday shoe.  
__Taxi cabs and buses would honk as they went past,  
__Tragic wagons never seem to need to stop for gas._

Gwen stared at the brain for a long while.

"What?" said Crow, frowning at her.

She looked at him. "You've just got to know our Extracting method, Mr Crow. You've seen how well it worked on the conserved brain Miss Gregorius gave you."

He nodded slowly and silently.

"It usually works excellently," Gwen continued. "But I think there must be some problem with using it on a brain that has been preserved at… at a later point in time than usual." She cleared her throat. "I'd like to do some research into this, because I'm afraid we won't make any progress if we continue like this. I'd like to know what the difference is between memories in a well-preserved brain, and those of a brain like … like the one at hand."

"Seems sensible enough to me," Crow conceded.

"But," Gwen said, "I'll need a similar brain to do the research. In order to spare this one, do you see? I'll ask Vivi, I mean Miss Gregorius, for help."

He nodded, gathered some files, which had been lying on one of the desks, and left the room in a whirl of black robes. He never told her where he went, but he seemed to approve of her idea, and thus considered their work currently suspended.

_Children live forever, but not so children's toys,  
__Wagons can't forever be a friend to little boys.  
__And one gray day it happened while Tommy took his nap,  
__A garbage truck ran over Muff and turned him into scrap._

After he had left, Gwen looked at Jon. "How are you progressing?"

The Auror slammed the book shut he was holding in his hand. Then he opened it again and showed it to her. He looked strained.

"Do you see? Well, you can't see anything, can you? It's blank. Everything in this office is empty, or encrypted, or heavily secured by spells or … anything. Mrs Beresford will have my hide."

He pointed at the stacks of records and books lying on the desk he was using in the victim's office.

Gwen smiled. _Our records in the Brain Room are the same. Only visible to those who know the correct spells to read them._

"And Mr Mayfield is silent as a grave – I mean, oh, I'm sorry."

Gwen nodded.

"Apart from these objects," he pointed to some items compiled on a small table at the wall, such as a goblet, a vase, some mugs, gemstones, quills, parchment, candles, and a Mars sculpture, "we haven't found anything that would help us clear up this case, or at least tell us what Archibald Dusk was dealing with."

"There aren't even any private things," Gwen remarked, eyeing the rather prosaic office, where only the greyish-green singing wormwood in its pot in the far corner stood out. At the moment he was singing placidly:

Muff the Tragic Wagon, lived by the street and rolled along the boulevard, through rain and snow and sleet.

_Little Tommy Pumpkin loved that wagon Muff,  
__And rolled him home and filled him up, with toys and other stuff.  
__Little Tommy Pumpkin said just off the cuff,  
__There will never be another tragic wagon Muff  
__Muff the Tragic Wagon, lived by the street  
__And rolled along the boulevard, through rain and snow and sleet.  
__Little Tommy Pumpkin loved that wagon Muff,  
__And rolled him home and filled him up, with toys and other stuff._

"Yep, I've noticed this at well. No photographs, nothing. Is that customary in your Department?"

"I don't think so, Isabelle, for example, has a photograph of her two children on her desk. Yet Ademarus' office is rather …er … impersonal, too. But, then, he has no children. I wonder why there is no photo of Archibald's wife, Eleanor."

Suddenly the door opened and Mrs Beresford's bushy brown hair appeared, a cigarillo behind her ear.

"Could you please come with me, Jonathan," she asked in her deep voice.

"I'm coming," Jonathan replied, gathering his wand, cloak and bag. "I have to leave," he whispered to Gwen, "urgent interrogation."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Saturday, 21 May 1994_

Gwen hastily flicked the cigarette butt away, and re-entered her cottage. It had been a nice day, but in the evening a cool and strong breeze had sprung up, making her shiver. She passed the hallway, where she hung up her cloak, and went into her warm and cosy sitting room, where Isabelle was sipping her tea on the sofa in the corner, while Honoria was sitting cross-legged on one of Gwen's sheep skins on the floor in front of the fireplace, shuffling the Tarot cards. Napoleon was prowling around her, purring, and looking as if he wanted to scramble onto her lap, which she didn't allow as she was a bit allergic to cats.

Gwen went to the fireplace to put on another log. The lights were dim. Their plates with the leftovers of a delicious dinner of Cornish pasties and a salad were still on the table.

"Are you still drawing one card in the morning?" Honoria asked interestedly. Tonight she was wearing flowing robes in mossy green and dark blue.

Gwen nodded. "Yes, my Card for the Day. But I am too lazy to keep records. I try to find out what the card is about during the day, but so much has happened recently, I often forget my cards."

They looked at each other for a moment in silence. Everyone knew what she was talking about.

"What was this morning's card?" Isabelle interrupted the silence, picking a speck from her pale-grey robes.

"It was… Eight of Wands."

"Oh. I know this one well. Energy and excitement." Honoria searched through the stack to find the card. "Here it is."

Isabelle put her cup on the table, got up and joined Honoria on another sheep skin. The latter held the card in order for her to see it. It showed preeminently eight diagonal wooden rods in the air, with a tiny lake and some mountains in the far background.

"And what do you make of it?"

"Hem, it looks quite dynamic to me. But I can't say that I've felt this way today," Gwen said ruefully. Isabelle laughed.

"_Mais – _you've put a lot of logs on our fire tonight, perhaps it's just this. Doesn't 'Wand' symbolise the element Fire?"

All three giggled. It felt good to enjoy a carefree evening with some friends.

Gwen took her wand and levitated the plates, went with them to the kitchen and put them into the sink. Wookey had left after she'd served their dinner, and would come to clean tomorrow.

When she returned to the sitting room, Honoria was saying: "No, it's not new, I've just combined the aquamarines with the lapis lazuli, looks lovely, doesn't it?" Isabelle was admiring her collar.

"Do any of you want another drink?" Gwen asked.

"I'm fine with the tea, _merci_," said Isabelle.

"Hon?"

"I still have some water. It's delicious," replied Honoria.

"Now what," Isabelle looked at them with big round eyes. "Are we going to read the cards together?" She pointed at the stack in front of Honoria.

"Yes, of course. So what's the question tonight? You know it should begin with What, When, How, or Why. No 'yes or no' questions."

Gwen took a floor cushion and joined them in front of the merrily crackling fire.

They all sat thinking for a moment.

Suddenly Isabelle said: "Well, what I _really _want to know is, of course, … you know… can't we try to ask …?"

"What?"

"_Alors_, _le crime_… I mean, perhaps we can find out…"

"Well," Honoria said slowly. "We can try. Thinking about it – I've never asked a 'Who' question. I don't know whether it works."

"Let's have a try," said Gwen, trying to hide her excitement.

"Who murdered Archibald Dusk?"

The words, though not spoken very loudly, seemed to ring through the dimly lit room. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard.

They kept silent, concentrating on the question asked, shuffling the cards one after another.

When they were done with it, Honoria cut the deck into three piles, and let them pick a pile each. Everyone drew a card out of their pile, each one in her own manner: Isabelle fanned them before her, let her hand hover above them, taking her time to chose one. Gwen simply drew one out of the pile, Honoria spread them on the floor, got up and chose one after looking at them for a little while.

Finally Honoria laid the three cards out on the floor, face down, on the beautiful red silk cloth lying in their midst.

"This one is the past, or the root, or the cause," Honoria whispered, pointing at the card on the left side, "this one is … the person in question", she pointed at the card in the centre, "and this one is the future, or a tendency, or the outcome." Now she was pointing at the card on the right side.

She turned up the left card.

"Four of Pentacles."

The card showed a crowned man sitting on a chair, in front of a town, tiny in the background. He had one pentacle over his crown, was clasping another with his arms, two pentacles were lying under his feet.

"What do you see?" Honoria asked softly. "Answer without thinking."

"I see a … a king on a throne. Ruling the world," Isabelle whispered. "He looks at me with piercing eyes."

Gwen blinked: "I see a big town in the distance. And I see a man holding on to his coins." She hated having not to think. And she knew that she wasn't a good observer. "But sitting there with one coin over his head looks a bit ridiculous to me."

"I have known this card as a symbol for the desire of control, for possessiveness and even jealousy." Honoria added. "But what strikes me today is his youth. I've never noticed that before. Let's go on."

She turned up the card in the centre. They all held their breaths.

"Ace of Cups," Honoria whispered nearly inaudibly.

A hand, emerging from a cloud, held a single chalice. Water poured from it in five streams, down into a lake below. Water-lilies were swimming on the lake. Above the chalice a white dove with its beak pointing downwards hovered over a cross-symbol inscribed in a circle.

"I see Peace," Isabelle breathed, "because of the dove, of course. The card lets me think of the christian Communion. _Par la barbe de Merlin_!"

"The Aces represent the respective element of their suit in its purest form," Honoria said, "which is, in our case, Water. Meaning emotions, feelings, intuition." She held up her hands. "I am at a loss of words."

"I see a 'W' etched into a golden goblet." Gwen said suddenly. "Do we know anyone whose name begins with a 'W'?"

They stared at her. "It wouldn't be _that _simple, would it?"

"There's Bob, his surname's Warnock," Honoria said finally.

Her colleagues protested, Honoria shrugged: "You wanted a name."

"Firmin Warrington." Isabelle suggested.

"All right, he's not very popular, but thinking he is a murderer…"

"Well, this is only a brainstorming activity."

"And why would anyone from the Brain Room kill Archie?"

"That's true. So, do you think it's someone of the Death Chamber staff?"

"I don't know."

"Anyone there whose name starts with a W?"

"Can't think of anyone. There is Alex Campbell, Ivo Gilmour, Mercia Borthwick, Suplinius Crow, Timothy Oakden, Jacobus Mayfield, Manisha Cullen, Evelyn Anderson, …"

"Those last two are just temporarily there."

"And why on earth would anyone from the Death Chamber kill Archie?"

"But then, why would anyone _at all _kill him?"

"That's true."

They relapsed into silence.

"I am still wondering what he and Mayfield were investigating in the Death Chamber," Gwen pointed out. "Perhaps that'd be a clue to the mystery." She pressed her teeth together. She shouldn't have blabbed so much.

"Oh, but I know!"

"_What_!" Gwen and Isabelle looked at Honoria, horrified.


	18. Chapter 18

"How come you know, but nobody else?" Gwen's voice sounded suspicious. "I mean, Jonathan has been trying to find that out for …well, for about a month, and if even Agatha Hill won't tell him…" Jonathan had been really bitter about it.

"Perhaps because it is something Agatha Hill really couldn't tell him," suggested Honoria.

"Now what is it – and why do _you _know?"

"Well, I happened to overhear Mayfield one night in the Three Broomsticks, he was talking to another guy there."

"You _happened to overhear_…" Gwen replied, even more suspicious now.

"Don't look at me like that. It wasn't exactly over_hearing_. It was after a particularly intensive trance session with some very advanced witches. I felt so _permeable…_well, never mind. We went to the pub for some butterbeers, and I didn't really participate in the others' conversation. I just kept them company, and let my mind float. Mayfield was sitting in a corner, talking very softly to that other guy, and first I didn't even notice that I could hear him. It was suddenly as if I could read his mind."

"_Oh-là-là, _we should examine _your _brain, _ma chère_,"exclaimed Isabelle.

"Shhh!" said Gwen.

"I was in a kind of stupor. And then I suddenly noticed the word 'horcrux'. I was startled and listened … or concentrated on their conversation, whatever. He was telling the other one that he and his colleague had been ordered to study horcruxes, and that it was horrible since it was impossible to do any – let's say – practical research. So they tried, at least, to develop a theoretical knowledge."

"Horcruxes! _Parbleu! _In the Ministry?"

"I wonder who ordered them to study such a topic."

"I don't know. Anyway … they suddenly got up and left the pub."

"And who was the other man?"

"I don't know either. I couldn't even see him really well. He was wearing a kind of hood. Biggish man. Black robes. Broad-shouldered." Honoria shrugged.

"And why didn't you tell Mrs Beresford all this?"

"She didn't ask me! You know how we ... She just kept on asking me about why I returned to the Brain Room on the morning in question." She pouted.

Gwen looked again at the card. "The goblet!" she exclaimed.

"What goblet?" Now they turned to look at her. Honoria had spilt some water from her cup.

Gwen looked guiltily from one to the other. "This card shows a goblet. There is a goblet in Archie's office. In fact, I saw Mayfield with it the other day." She pointed to the centre card.

"Do you think that Mayfield…?"

"No," she shook her head, thinking hard. "Not necessarily, but isn't it possible that _someone _was interested in their work? In their findings? Or that someone simply _didn't_ want them to find out … whatever? I mean, _horcruxes_,… that's real dark magic."

Then and there Gwen decided to tell Jonathan about it. Maybe Mayfield was in danger, too?

Isabelle got up and took a sip from her tea. "_Alors,_ isn't it wonderful what the cards can tell you? _Fascinant, n'est-ce pas_? Let's read the last card, too."

As they nodded, Honoria turned up the third card.

It showed a great star with eight rays, surrounded by seven smaller stars, also of eight rays. Beneath them, a naked woman was kneeling on her left knee, her right foot standing in a pond. She poured water from two ewers, irrigating sea and land. Behind her mountains could be seen in the distance, and on the right side a small tree, wherefrom a bird soared.

"_L'Étoile_," Isabelle murmured. "It's so beautiful. One of the major Arcana."

"I see a beautiful woman, serenity, summer, abundance…" Gwen mused.

"Yeah, The Star. I really love that card. Now it makes me think of calmness, and inspiration," Honoria added.

"This looks hopeful, doesn't it?" Gwen wondered, getting up again, stretching her limbs and giving a big loud yawn.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Monday, 23 May 1994_

Dozens of water jets were flowing from the golden figures of a witch, a wizard, a goblin, a centaur, and a house-elf, but nobody took notice of the monument representing peace and harmony of the wizarding world. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Some witches and wizards were greeting one another, some were standing in groups talking softly. A constant buzzing was in the air.

Gwen had just arrived using the Main entrance (she hated Apparating, but as she still had no Floo powder, and didn't want to ask Hugh or anyone else _again,_ she had had no other choice than Apparating to London). With a grumpy expression she rushed through the Atrium to reach the lifts.

The one she entered was already transporting two wizards, one had blond hair, and a rosy complexion, the other was small and dark-haired. She pushed the button for Level Six. The blond, muscular and slightly overweight wizard grinned at her, his round blue eyes twinkling. He looked quite familiar, and when he left on Level Seven, Gwen realised that it had been Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

The cool female voice announced their arrival on Level Six and Gwen entered the corridor of the Department of Magical Transportation.

She had to pass through a long corridor, and said hello to Wilkie Twycross, who was just leaving one of the doors of the Apparition Test Centre. The Apparition instructor, known to everyone who had attended Hogwarts, nodded to her, his hair wispier than ever. Gwen had to stifle a giggle, remembering how students had given the Ministry instructor some rather unflattering nicknames in her school days. His teaching had seemed insufficient, only focussing on the rather abstract concept of the "three Ds". Even today she wasn't good at Apparating.

She hurried along the corridor, deep in thought, and not even looking at the doors leading to Broom Regulatory Control, thus missing her neighbour Hugh, who entered one of the offices to obtain a permission for the design of a special windproof broomstick a witch from Scotland had asked him to manufacture.

Panting slightly she opened the door with a plaque bearing the name "Mrs Edgcombe, Floo Network Authority".

Several witches and wizards were sitting in the cramped waiting-room, reading the Daily Prophet, violet-coloured memos, or pieces of parchment. Some were just snoozing in their seats. The air was stale.

Gwen cursed under her breath. She wanted to talk to Jon urgently, and tell him what Honoria had revealed to them, but now she had to wait like everyone else in here.

After nearly an hour, it was finally Gwen's turn, when the voice of the curly red-haired Madam Edgecombe trilled "Who's next, please?" She got up stumbling, and followed her into her office.

After wishing each other a good morning – Gwen rather sulkily, Madam Edgcombe as brightly as the sunshine outside – the latter bade her to sit down.

"Just wanted to get my allowance of Floo powder," mumbled Gwen, nudging her glasses straight on her nose.

"Name, personnel number, Department, Division?" the FNA employee asked briskly.

Gwen rummaged in her leather-bag and produced a small card made from particularly thick parchment, which seemed to be just blank and black. Madam Edgcombe held it over a special magical appliance that looked like a square piece of glass in a metal frame on four tiny silvery legs. Then she pointed her wand on the glass, and mumbled a spell. The glass started emanating a thin greenish fog, and a picture of Gwen as well as her data gleamed in small golden letters.

"Ah, it's you," Madam Edgecombe smiled at her (Gwen was quite sure that she didn't know her at all), and stood up to open a drawer in the huge white wall-cabinet behind her.

Suddenly the door opened and a plump witch entered, slightly out of breath. Madam Edgcombe whirled around, a big pot with floo powder in her hand.

Gwen recognised the witch at once, as Evelyn had gossiped about her in the smoking room the other day.

"You have to wait outside until you…" Madam Edgcombe tried to reason with Bertha Jorkins.

"Sorry, Madam Edgcombe, but it's really urgent. I need the documents regarding the portkeys for the Quidditch World Cup final…"

"Then you are completely wrong here," Madam Edgcombe interrupted her resolutely, drawing herself up. "The Portkey Office is farther along the corridor, right-hand side, Mr Clavis' office."

When Bertha Jorkins had turned and left the FNA office, Madam Edgcombe used a pair of scales and a silver spoon to fill a measure of floo powder into a metal box, which she handed over to Gwen.

Gwen took it, thanked her rapidly and hurried out of her office as fast as she could.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Gwen entered the Death Chamber, where Ivo Gilmour was working beside the Arch. He seemed to be speaking softly in a foreign language, which Gwen didn't recognise. She listened curiously, but didn't dare to linger.

She rushed to Dusk's (former) and Mayfield's office and opened the door. She was disappointed when she noticed that no one was there.

Where was Jonathan?

Crow was probably working in his own office, as Gwen's current work didn't seem to interest him. She was still trying elaborate the differences between a well-preserved brain and a brain in a similar condition as the victim's had been, which Vivi had provided the other day.

The wormwood hummed very softly.

_Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?  
_"_I've been to London to look at the queen."  
__Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?  
_"_I frightened a little mouse under the chair."_

Looking around Gwen's gaze suddenly fell on the small table at the wall, and the items standing upon it. Without knowing why, she turned around to make sure that no one was watching her. She approached the table on tiptoes and scrutinised the things without touching them. The goblet was made of a shining metal, probably bronze or brass, and engraved with snakes. She frowned. It looked fairly harmless.

_Perhaps Miss Carthew knows how to identify a horcrux_, she thought.

She hadn't been able to find her neighbour on Sunday, since Miss Carthew had gone to visit a grandniece of hers. Gwen looked at the other things – the vase, the mugs, gemstones, quills, parchment, candles, and the Mars sculpture.

_Are all these things dark magical objects?_ she wondered.

She paced in front of the small table, knitting her hands, not knowing what to do. Should she try to find Jonathan in the Aurors' Headquarters? She winced. She wasn't really keen on going there. She thought of this morning's tarot card, the Knight of Swords. It showed a handsome, yet angry-looking young man, riding a white horse fiercely across a desert, and holding a sword high in his right hand.

_Perhaps Jon has left the Ministry altogether, _she told herself. _I could ask Crow, who's probably next door. _She pulled a face. She definitely wasn't keen to go there either.

As she left the office, Ivo Gilmour was just walking up the steep stairs that lead down to the Arch.

"Excuse me, Mr Gilmour, do you know where Jonathan Hope is?" she approached him boldly.

Ivo Gilmour smiled, his dark eyes behind his spectacles looking at her kindly.

"I haven't seen him all morning," he replied in his sonorous voice. "But please call me Ivo, Mr Gilmour sounds much too formal, don't you think?"

She smiled and held out her hand. "And I'm Gwendolyn, or Gwen, if you like."

He took her hand, then she sighed: "So I'll go and ask Mr Crow."

"Oh, don't bother, _he_'s not here either." Noticing the relief in her face, he suddenly gave a broad, nearly boyish grin, but then looked earnest again. "He'll be back tomorrow."

Gwen looked taken aback and thought: _What would Crow say if I simply stayed away without telling him?_

When she saw Ivo stowing away his wand inside his robes, she asked: "What language was it that you were speaking just now?"

He cocked his head, pondered for a moment, and replied: "That was an African language, Yoruba. A Yoruba dialect called Ẹfọn, to be exact."

"And whom were you talking to ?" Gwen blurted out, adjusting her glasses nervously.

"I … I was talking to an ancestor's soul," he stated with a finality in his voice that forbade further questions. Gwen sensed that she had reached an invisible barrier. But since he was still eyeing her kindly, she tried one feeble step further.

"So there is an afterlife, is there?" she whispered.

He couldn't help laughing. "Of course, there is," he said, "and maybe there isn't – for some people, at least. But how is it like or could be like – that's a question that interests me. Sorry, Gwendolyn, I must leave now." With these cryptic words he waved at her, winking, and went to one of the offices nearby.

Gwen decided to use the opportunity and pop into the Brain Room, perhaps she could get up to date with her team members' work. Apart from that, she wanted to ask Ademarus some questions regarding her own investigation.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	19. Chapter 19

"Perhaps you should adapt the wand movement like this," Ad answered Gwen's question, and showed her a complicated movement that looked like a tiny Z, followed by a sudden swish and a dot. Always keen to help solve a problem, he had instantly put his own work down and delved into the issue Gwen had put before him. "And put all your intensity in the last part," he recommended. "The words should remain the same."

Gwen nodded. She had been thinking along the same lines when she had worked on the brain Vivi had provided. "I'll try this. Thank you! Where's Isabelle?"

"I don't – ah, but look, here she comes," he pointed at the door leading to the Circular Room.

"Ah Gwendolyn – _tellement contente de te revoir ici!" _At least Isabelle seemed to have missed her. She rushed to join them, her beige-coloured robes fluttering around her, her smoky-quartz collar gleaming.

Firmin looked up from his desk and nodded in their direction. He looked quite relaxed today, having just completed an interim report on his research topic, as he'd told Gwen some minutes previously.

"So – how's your work proceeding?" Gwen asked her team colleagues.

"Fine," said Ademarus, "we're working on a variation of the Indicimaginis spell."

"_Attend_, if you have time, I'll show you!" On Gwen's nodding affirmatively, Isabelle hurried to their office, where she left her cloak and things, and returned with two small tanks. Ad helped her to extract two brains from the big tank in the centre of the Brain Room ( "Jérôme" and "Corinne").

They put the tanks with a brain in each one on one of the desks, one opposite the other, and the three gathered around it.

"Look closely," Isabelle warned, and waved her wand in some complex motions at Corinne. Nothing happened.

"_Bor_…" she suppressed a heavy oath, "I still don't get the hang of this spell variation," she murmured.

"Shall I?" asked Ad.

Isabelle nodded, sighing and drawing up her brows in a rather dramatic gesture.

Ademarus executed nearly the same movement, flowing and swiftly, and both witches took a sharp inward breath.

A string of pictures, small as a postage stamp, lit up between Corinne and Jérôme for some seconds. And they seemed to have emanated from Corinne.

"Did you see the shape they are forming?" Isabelle whispered, in awe.

Gwendolyn nodded. "Sinus-shaped. Looks like a wave, indeed."

Isabelle beamed, Ademarus looked quite content.

"It was, after all, a good idea to pursue a holistic approach and use some muggle insight," he mused. Gwen couldn't suppress a proud grin. "I don't know whether it'll be possible to show the images for a longer while, but even making them visible for some seconds – that's really something."

"And you made it possible – congratulations!" Gwen nodded approvingly, and not without envy.

All of a sudden Bob appeared in his usual red overall. "Heya, Gwen! Good to see you! How're you doing?" He beamed at her.

"All right," she said, while Bob started to get out his equipment to clean the tank.

"I'd prefer to work with you all, much nicer in here," Gwen said almost sentimentally, looking around the Brain Room.

Isabelle squeaked and patted her back: "Poor you! Are they treating you that badly?"

Gwen shook her head: "No, but could you show me this spell right now. I've got some time."

Ademarus nodded, and said: "Perhaps Isabelle can do. I'd like to review some measurements, but will join you two later."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

At five o'clock Gwen left the lift with its clattering golden grilles. She was rather content with her day's work in the Brain Room. Isabelle and she had experimented with the new Indicimaginis spell and had had some success with visualising some of "Corinne's" images.

Deep in thought, softly humming a tune, she crossed the Atrium without looking left or right. She was startled out of her reverie when someone suddenly blocked her way.

"Good evening, Miss Bale," a deep voice said.

Mrs Beresford stood in front of her, building herself up like a green hill in the lovely South English landscape.

"Good evening," Gwen murmured. "How are you?"

"How…? Now – what does it matter? Where have you _been_?"

"Well," Gwen said defending herself. "No-one was there today, so I decided to get some support from my own colleagues." That was a bit stretching the truth. They had even skipped the lunch hour to continue with their Legilimency experiments, and Honoria had fetched them some sandwiches from the Cenaculum.

Gwen ploughed on valiantly: "Where is Jonathan?"

Mrs Beresford suddenly put an arm around Gwen's shoulder, engulfing her in her wide emerald-green cloak. At the same time she withdrew them both back into a recess in the black wall and cast a nonverbal spell.

No-one in the crowd of witches and wizards in the Atrium seemed to have noticed.

Gwen was so nonplussed at this strange behaviour that she nearly daren't breathe.

"I really estimate your work with Mr Crow," Mrs Beresford whispered. As her voice was so deep, her whispering sounded very hoarse. Gwen smelled a strong whiff of cigarillo smoke.

"And I know exactly what you're doing," Mrs Beresford continued whispering, even though whispering wasn't really necessary, given the spell she had cast.

"I've seen your file in Human Resources." That sounded rather menacingly.

A group of chatting witches passed them, nearly touching their elbows without registering them huddled there.

"And based on my own knowledge of human nature I deduce that you can keep a secret."

Gwen nodded, dumbfounded, even though the last sentence was stated as a fact, not as a question. Something seemed to have changed in Mrs Beresford. _Perhaps Jon has put in a good word for me. Seems that I've been removed from the suspect list._

Mrs Beresford drew her even nearer: "Sirius Black. There are rumours he's been sighted near Hogwarts. Seems that Harry Potter is in real danger. An Auror task force has been concentrated in a … base near Hogwarts. Jonathan's been called up, too."

Gwen looked at her with dismay: "But … for how long? I mean, what about our matter in hand?"

Mrs Beresford raised her eyebrows. "Well, I am still here, and I'm working on it. Is there anything you have to tell us?" With 'us' she probably meant herself and Jonathan, or the Aurors as a whole, but from her lips it sounded like a majestic plural.

"No, nothing," Gwen said firmly, shielding her mind even more than usual. Then she made an instant decision. "I just think you should keep an eye on Mayfield."

Let her think I suspect him. If they observe him he'll be well guarded.

Mrs Beresford shot her a shrewd glance. "You're a clever girl," she said slowly.

At precisely that moment Mrs Beresford, on her part, lowered her guards, and Gwen had the opportunity to get a glimpse of Mrs Beresford's mind.

"_Jacobus Mayfield is certainly a very ambitious coworker. Very ambitious," said a white-haired woman with steel-blue eyes. Agatha Hill._

Gwen withdrew at once. Mrs Beresford narrowed her eyes, shaking her head vigorously.

"What was that?"

Gwen tried to look innocent. "What?"

"N…nothing. I had… I think I need… sorry." She fingered her pocket. "So, how come you mention Mr Mayfield?"

Gwen took a deep breath: "I can't tell you more at the moment. Just trust me, will you?"

Mrs Beresford loosened her grip, and finally withdrew her cloak. She gave another flick with her wand.

"Ok, Miss Bale," she said at last, looking her straight into the eyes. "I will trust you. Thank you for your help."

Gwen couldn't believe she was free. She said good-bye to the Auror and hurried to the fireplaces. She was happy to have obtained her own floo powder at last.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	20. Chapter 20

Darkness was falling, and the first stars sprinkled the inky black sky. A soft clattering in the kitchen announced that Wookey was doing the dishes. Dinner had been delicious.

Gwen shut the window of her sitting room, extinguished her cigarette and took a record from the stack lying beside the gramophone. She put it on the turntable and placed the needle in the groove. Then she turned the handle, knowing by now what the correct speed was.

She laid down on her back on a sheep skin in front of the warm and pleasant chimney fire, took off her glasses and joined her hands in her neck. With closed eyes she listened to Mozart's piano concert # 23. The crackling of the fire mixed with the crackling of the old record. Nap snuggled beside her head, sighing contentedly.

Gwen tried to think of nothing else but the music. Nevertheless memories crept up in her mind, like Norma, smiling at her when she was listening to classical music (Norma had preferred the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, and The Doors), Crow, in the Death Chamber office, sneering at her, Jon looking at her helplessly, Archibald lying on the floor near the Arch…

A sudden knock at the front door waked her. She put on her glasses and sprang to her feet, while Nap squeaked indignantly and took flight. The sitting room was silent, the concert was over, and Wookey was neither seen or heard. She must have left. _I must had fallen asleep! _Gwen thought, still a bit bleary.

There was a second, somewhat louder knocking, and Gwen padded to the door. "Who's there?" she asked.

"It's me, Miss Carthew," she heard her elderly neighbour reply. "I saw the light in your sitting room and I've brought you a jar of violet jelly."

Gwen hurried to open the door and let her in.

"Oh, I'm so sorry I've woken you up," Miss Carthew noticed at once. Gwen tried to smooth down her tousled brown curls.

"No problem, Miss Carthew; I, too, wanted a word."

Miss Carthew followed her into the sitting room.

"Thank you so much, Miss Carthew, I love self-made jelly and marmalade," Gwen said, "but do sit down, please. I'll put on the kettle for some tea. Would you like some music?"

"With pleasure," Miss Carthew said.

"What would you like to hear?" she asked, putting a log on the fire.

"I'm fine with the concert you were listening to before," the old lady chuckled.

Gwen put on the tone arm again, and turned the handle of the gramophone.

When she returned from the kitchen with the steaming teapot, Miss Carthew was leaning back on the sofa, eyes shut, moving her wispy hands in an elegant fashion, like a conductor.

Gwen poured them a cup of rooibos tea, and put the pot on a warmer.

After exchanging the usual politenesses Gwen came to the point rather briskly.

"Miss Carthew, do you know how to recognise a horcrux?"

The old lady cast her an apprehensive glance. "Now, my dear, you're asking some very intriguing questions. Why in Merlin's name are you interested in _such _dark magic?"

"Well, I think I've finally found out what the victim and his colleague were working on." Gwen sipped her tea. "I've also learnt who found the victim."

"Wise move to try to find out what he was working on," Miss Carthew nodded approvingly, a smile wrinkling her eyes and mouth so that her face seemed to glitter in the light of the crackling fire. "So you think he was working on horcruxes – in the Department of Mysteries? Who says so? And would that be permitted?" She took up her tea cup.

Gwen pondered: "Honoria told us." She told Miss Carthew what Honoria had recounted last Saturday evening.

"Isn't that the Trance and Prophecy witch who also works in the Brain Room? I've seen her in your house, haven't I?"

Gwen nodded.

"Isn't she that tree-hugger witch?"

"She loves being outside, and she is very open-minded," Gwen defended her colleague. "But she is also very intelligent."

"I didn't mean that deprecatingly, I just want to make sure who she is. Now I know. How long has she been working for the Ministry?"

"For a rather long time, I think." Gwen took off her glasses, absentmindedly, and wiped them on her pale pink robe. "Five or six years. Why do you ask?" _You sound a bit like Mrs Beresford_, she thought.

"I am just trying to get an idea of the people in your Department. Someone must be the murderer, or an accomplice of the murderer."

Gwen tried to take that in. "Yes, you may be right. There might be a murderer among us. Merlin's beard, I still find it incredible. But Honoria…"

"I just want to determine how reliable her statement is."

"She may seem a bit … exotic and she has a mind of her own, but she's got a lot of common sense. Regarding whether this kind of work would be allowed – I'm not sure. Our Department has always been granted a lot of concessions, but …"

"Do you think Agatha Hill knew of this?"

"I don't know. But I don't want to ask her either. At least not now. Perhaps later."

The fire crackled merrily, Gwen poured them a second cup of tea and offered some Cornish fairings.

"As to your question how to identify a horcrux," Miss Carthew continued, "I must disappoint you, I've never studied or worked on this field of magic. I only know that a horcrux is an object in which a dark wizard or witch conceals part of his or her soul, after having split the same by – murder."

Gwen nodded, munching a biscuit. That was all she knew about those terrible magical instruments, too.

"You wanted to tell me who found the body."

"Timothy Oakden. He works in the Death Chamber. On ghosts. Blond, good-natured, hearty chap. Married. Two children." _Sounds like a police record,_ Gwen thought.

Miss Carthew nodded, but seemed engrossed in thought.

"Ah, and he reported the murder at a quarter past eight."

Miss Carthew looked up: "And at what time was the murder committed?"

"I don't know."

"Perhaps you can ask your ex school-mate?" Miss Carthew cocked her head. Gwen grinned.

"Now listen, Gwendolyn. We need more information. More information about the murder, and more information about the victim," Miss Carthew stated very decidedly.

Gwen's grin deepened, in spite of the effort this request might involve: "What do you suggest?"

"Who is the person who knows the victim best? His widow, I suppose."

"Or his ex-wife. But it'll be easier for me to deal with his widow."

"You should try both. Yet without attracting attention. You must be careful."

"Well, the widow has, in fact, tried to get in contact with me before. I haven't spoken to her since the funeral," she said ruefully. "I'll try to get in touch with her again."

She had a plan, but first of all, she needed her new spell to work.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Friday, 27 May 1994_

"I need your help." Gwen heard herself say to Suplinius Crow, who was sitting in front of her behind his desk. She asked herself for the umpteenth time why in Merlin's name she had to work with him of all people.

"Have you proceeded with your research on the auxiliary brain?" Crow asked silkily, without looking up from the big volume he was studying.

"I am actually finished. And I think I've got the solution. But I'd rather you helped me upholding the spell when I work with the victim's brain."

If Crow was surprised, he didn't let it show. "Do you need my help immediately?" he asked in a bored tone of voice.

Gwen felt a burning anger slowly rising inside her. She took a deep breath, grabbed the amethysts on her breast, and said loudly: "Immediately."

When he got up swiftly, she had an inkling of what her today's tarot card, Nine of Wands, meant. It showed a figure leaning upon a staff with an expectant look, as if awaiting an enemy. The figure was standing in front of eight other staves, erect, in orderly disposition, like a palisade. She knew that one of the meanings of this card was 'Perseverance'.

~ooOOoo~

Some minutes later, they both held their wands onto the deceased's brain while Gwen searched and probed. In the course of their special investigation Gwen's movements had become even more precise and accurate than usual. Finally she found something and performed a complicated movement, mumbling a spell. Seconds trickled by like long dark hours. She pressed her lips together.

A pearly-white gossamer strand was hovering on the tip of her wand. She focussed as much as was possible, and felt that Crow was doing the same. Slowly, carefully they extracted the memory and Crow preserved it with the help of the usual spell in a vial containing the necessary violet-coloured liquid. Then, after adding some drops of the special pale pink liquid, which was needed when dealing with memories from a conserved brain, Gwen put the memory into the pensieve she had obtained from the Brain Room.

Gwen beamed proudly, and even Crow nodded appreciatively.

"We did it!" she said, pleased. "Let's look at it in the pensieve."

~ooOOoo~

They were both standing beside the basin and plunged into it. Gwen saw Crow's slim black-clad figure landing at her side. They were standing in a Ministry corridor. _I know this place, _Gwen thought, then slapped herself on the forehead, which made no sound inside the pensieve. It was the Fourth Floor corridor. Archibald Dusk was talking to a heavily-built wizard with a black moustache, whom she only knew from sight and hearsay.

_"I know," Dusk was just saying to Macnair, knitting his fingers nervously. "But what is it to you to wait some more days?"_

_He was obviously pleading._

_"What it is to me?" Macnair's small eyes bored mercilessly into Dusk's. "I'm not a darned goblin."_

_Dusk was looking a picture of misery. "I'm doing the best I can."_

_"You'd better, " Macnair growled menacingly. "Tomorrow. Same time as today. And that's my last word."_

The scene blurred.

Gwen and Crow went up again and got out of the pensieve.

"That was Walden Macnair," Gwen announced. "What dealings did Dusk have with him?"

"How come you know Macnair?" asked Crow surprised, nearly impressed.

"I don't know him, just his name," replied Gwen defensively. "Do _you _know more about him?" she asked, putting some emphasis on the personal pronoun.

The greyish-green wormwood started singing the song _One fine day._

"I know he works for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, that's all," Crow answered softly, but Gwen had the impression he was withholding something from her.

"Well then, what are you going to do now, Miss Bale? Trying to extract some more memories?"

"I don't think that would be recommendable. The Extracting frequency should be raised gradually. I think I'll prepare an interim report for Mrs Hill, and Mrs Beresford."

_And I'm trying to ask Eleanor what this conversation means, _Gwen thought.

During the week she had joined Eleanor in the Cenaculum, as well as beckoned her to sit with Isabelle and her whenever the opportunity arose. Eleanor had seemed glad about it, since – as a relative newcomer in the Department of Mysteries – she had not yet been able to make a lot of friends in the Planet Room. Isabelle had seemed surprised, but didn't mention it, trusting that Gwen would explain in due time.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	21. Chapter 21

Today the Cenaculum's windows showed a beautiful landscape with green mountains, some buildings in the distance and a meandering river nearby.

"Hi there," Gwen said and collapsed into one of the (today) green chairs. Her tray, laden with a plate of Stargazy Pie, a glass of gillywater, and cutlery, plummeted ungently in front of her on the table, which made the pilchard's head wobble eerily.

"Oops, sorry," she gasped.

Isabelle removed the splashes of sauce from her beige-coloured robes with a flourish of her wand and grinned: "Hi, Gwen."

Roberta, who was talking to the blond Timothy in soft murmurs, waved and winked at her. Eleanor had just started to eat her barbecued steak, and looked up.

"Hi Gwen, you look so … happy today?" the blonde widow answered.

Gwen nodded. "I've been lucky today," she beamed. _That would be the opportunity to steer our conversation to the memory I've just seen, but there are too many people._

"This morning I drew 'Nine of Wands', isn't that saying something?"

Eleanor looked at her curiously, but didn't ask any further.

When Timothy had to get up and leave, Roberta turned to them and asked: "Want to join me to the Magic Gym after lunch?"

Eleanor's face brightened up. "What a nice idea!" she explained. "I haven't been there for ages." Then she frowned, all at once.

"I've _never_ been there," Gwen said gloomily. "I'd be a laughing stock, believe me."

"You've never been there?" Roberta looked aghast, and Isabelle fell in: "_Incroyable. _You _must_ come and see it."

"Yes, please, come with us," Eleanor pleaded.

Resignedly, Gwen let her shoulders fall in a slump, and eyed her pilchard sadly. "I'll be like a blown-up balloon when I've eaten this," she lamented.

Eleanor gave a high clear laugh, then shrank back, putting her hand before her mouth.

"It is so good to see you laughing," said Isabelle, looking straight into Eleanor's eyes. Tears sprang up into those beautiful blue eyes, but she blinked them away.

_I think no-one can imagine how life is for her now,_ Gwen thought, full of pity._ Losing the most beloved person in your life…_

Roberta saved the situation: "You know what: the four of us will go there, and if anyone laughs at Gwen, I'll set Amber Dancer on them," she suggested, chewing a pink sparkling gum, as she'd already finished her salad.

Now all laughed, only Gwen murmured: "Won't that be a bit difficult, as Amber Dancer is upstairs on Level One, and the Gym on Level Seven?", but she was shushed down by Roberta, while Isabelle asked: "_Mais, _how come you know where the gym is if you've never been there?"

"I work here," Gwen replied with dignity.

~ooOOoo~

They entered the _Bistro _where a slim well-toned witch with short green hair and long legs was serving energy and fitness drinks in all colours and flavours behind a counter. Some of the drinks were sparkling, others frizzling, others bubbling, others were doing combinations of these.

"Hi Roberta," the witch called. "I see you've brought some of your friends."

"Hi Amelinda," Roberta beamed at her. "Meet Gwendolyn. I think you already know Isabelle, and Eleanor?"

"Nice to meet you." They all shook hands. A purple drink gave a sudden pop.

"Oops!" exclaimed the green-haired sportswitch. "Anyone of you fancies a drink before you start?"

As they all answered in the negative, she pointed to the counter on the other side, where they could borrow some sportswear. After they had each picked up matching sizes (Gwen needing the most time to choose) Roberta showed them the door to the changing rooms.

After they had changed into their sports clothing (Roberta had brought her own) they moved on to the central hall of the Magic Gym.

Gwen winced and had to suppress a whimper when she saw the large bright hall full of treadmills, bikes, benches and weights. At this time of the day – moreover it being a Friday – a good many wizarding people could be seen exercising on the various machines. They all seemed very hardworking and concentrated, some seemed to even enjoy their exercises, others just stood there chatting.

Around the main hall several doors led to other rooms. Gwen could decipher inscriptions like Quidditch hall, Gymnastics hall, Broomracing hall, and Dance school.

"I suggest you start with a nice little warm-up on the treadmill," Roberta smiled, chewing her pink gum. "I'll show you how it works. You should exercise for ten minutes only, that should be enough for a start."

Gwen followed her like a lamb to the slaughter, Eleanor in tow.

"I'll go and see what they're doing at the dance school right now," said Isabelle happily, and before Gwen could raise any objections Isabelle had disappeared through the corresponding door.

Roberta showed Gwen how the treadmill worked. "It's easy, isn't it?" she asked enthusiastically. "And here you can set the landscape you want to have around you while you're running. You can also adjust your own ambient noise – look here, you can set birds' twittering, if you choose a forest, for example, or the sound of the sea, if you choose a seascape, or any kind of music you like, or just silence. You'll forget the others around you."

"Isn't there an invisibility booster, so that people can't see _me_?" Gwen asked hopefully.

"Well, …no."

"I'll join you," said Eleanor. "I, too, will start with the treadmill."

"Me, too," added Roberta, "but since I'll stay on it for some more time, I'll show you first a back machine, and the exercise bike where you can finish your today's training. Fancy some arm or abdo machine, too?"

She showed them everything, obviously being completely in her element, and then all three started.

To Gwendolyn it seemed like the longest ten minutes of her life. Her face crimson, she stepped from the treadmill and proceeded to the back machine, while Roberta kept on running. Eleanor followed Gwen, fresh as a daisy, her hair glowing like pure gold.

_How come she is not exhausted,_ Gwen grumbled inwardly, but couldn't ask, as she was all out of breath, her calves aching.

Eleanor smiled at her: "It's nice here, isn't it? I put my treadmill on absolute silence. T'was wonderful." She tucked a streak behind her ear.

Gwen took a deep breath: "I think I'll just do the back bench, and that's it for today."

"All right, I'll take the one at your side."

Gwen wondered whether she should do some magic to her crimson face in case Roberta watched her.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

After they had taken a shower, Eleanor and Gwen were sitting amicably in the _Bistro_, Gwen tasting a pink bubbling, and Eleanor a green frizzling energy drink.

"Nice," admitted Gwen, "it tastes really good." Her legs felt like jelly, and she was not sure whether she wanted to repeat the experience.

"Contains all the minerals you need," promised Amelinda, beaming at both Unspeakables.

A group of brawny wizards entered the _Bistro, _sat at one of the small round tables, and ordered different magic muscle building drinks, laughing and shouting vociferously.

Gwendolyn rolled her eyes, and Eleanor dropped her gaze.

"Now, Eleanor, did you like the Magic gym?"

The blonde witch nodded eagerly and smiled.

"Isabelle is right," Gwen said suddenly, and gave her an intense look. "It's good to see you laughing again."

Eleanor froze instantly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

"It's all right, Gwen, you're just trying to cheer me up, making me feel better," Eleanor said miserably. "But the point is… I… it'll never be the same again. I'll never forget." She took a rapid sip of her drink, and coughed, as it tingled in her throat.

Gwen just sat there, listening.

Eleanor lowered her voice: "I'll tell _you_ – but please don't tell anyone about it." Now she nearly whispered: "As soon as the Aurors have found the murderer I'll leave the Department."

Gwen choked on her drink, gaping at her. "You know what that means?" she whispered back.

Eleanor nodded: "Of course."

Any Unspeakable who left the Department of Mysteries was put under a strong Memory Charm that made them forget everything that concerned the Department, or the work performed in here. Miss Carthew was one of the rare exceptions, since she had been working there for more than fourty years before retiring, thus ending her long and honourable career. In her case a strong Memory Charm would have caused irreparable damage to her mind. They had used a very limited charm on her and bound her to ongoing secrecy.

"Don't you understand? I _want _to forget."

Gwen gulped. "Yes, of course." _How can I ask her about that Macnair memory now?_ She remembered her former bold approaches with other colleagues and gave it a try.

"You know, as a matter of fact, you could help me further our investigations," she said.

Eleanor put her glass down. "With pleasure. Anything you like."

"I've succeeded in extracting a first usable memory from… well, it's a memory that shows your husband with Walden Macnair. Do you know him?"

Eleanor thought for a moment. "No. Who is he?"

"He's a Ministry employee. Did Archibald ever mention his name? Didn't he tell you about him, and his … relationship with him? Have you ever heard his name anywhere else? Please don't hurry, think about it."

Eleanor remained silent. The wizards on the table nearby extracted a deck of self-shuffling cards and started a game of Exploding Snap. If possible their laughter got even louder than before.

After a while the young widow replied resignedly: "I'm sorry to be of no help, but I don't know him, or perhaps I don't remember him. What did Archie have to do with him?"

Gwen sighed: "That's what I would have liked to learn from you." She cleaned her glasses with a Tergeo spell.

"Archie knew a lot of people in the Ministry. He had been working here for a long time, while I only joined this year. He had been working in other departments before joining the DoM."

At this moment Roberta and Isabelle turned up, both beaming and looking very content.

"Oh, _c'était formidable_," raved Isabelle. "This dance instructor was simply amazing." She showed them some elegant arm and leg movements. The others clapped, the wizards turned their heads to look at her.

"And I think I beat my own record," stated Roberta.

Isabelle ordered a baby-blue energy drink, while Roberta just opted for a mineral water.

While Eleanor asked Isabelle about the dancing class, Roberta, sitting at Gwen's side, whispered into her ears:

"You know I always use a time-turner in the Gym, so I can do more exercises."

Gwen flushed bright red, when she felt Roberta's breath tickling her cheek, while the latter pointed unobtrusively to her gym bag.

"Please don't tell anyone," she whispered, "I suppose I can trust you."

"But aren't you taking a high risk?" Gwen whispered, aghast. "I mean – what with the missing time-turners you mentioned the other day…"

Roberta shrank back, and Gwen regretted her remark instantly.

"You have got a good memory," the dark-haired witch said coolly.

"I'm only worried about you."

Roberta's features softened. "That's nice of you," she whispered back. "And, of course, you are right. I love exercising, but maybe it's too risky – at least at present. We may be in trouble right now. Our team leader still doesn't know, but we'll tell her soon enough… The two time-turners are, in fact, missing, Graham confirmed my count." She looked strained again.

"Time to go back to work, isn't it?" asked Isabelle cheerfully. They all agreed, and left the _Bistro, _saying good-bye to Amelinda.

On their way to the lift they met the blond and somewhat overweight wizard with the round blue eyes Gwen had seen the other day. He gave the four witches a genial nod, and said: "Hallo, Roberta."

"That was Ludo Bagman," Roberta informed them afterwards, her voice full of admiration. "Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

"I know," Gwen said, almost proudly.

"Have you ever seen him when he still was a Beater for the for the Wimbourne Wasps? He was brilliant."

Gwen gave no direct answer. "Have you played Quidditch, too?"

"Yes, of course!" Roberta beamed. "I was a Seeker in my school-days. But when I got Amber Dancer, I gave up Quidditch and started hippo-riding."

"Must have a lot on his plate right now, Ludo Bagman," Isabelle added. "With the Quidditch World Cup. Don't you think so?"

"Definitely," Roberta agreed, her grey eyes shining. Gwen suddenly wondered why she didn't work in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, but in the DoM, yet didn't dare to ask.

"Is anyone of you going to one of the World Cup matches?" Isabelle asked.

"I think Manisha is going," Gwen replied, "she told me the other day. She loves Quidditch. She's got tickets for the final."

"I am also going to the final," Roberta beamed. "If anyone of you wants to join me, I'll try to get more tickets!"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	22. Chapter 22

Gwen finished her interim report on one of the violet-coloured sheets, copied it with the Geminio spell and sent the flying memos to Agatha Hill, and Mrs Beresford.

She returned to the Brain Room, where she found Bob preparing the big brain tank for the week-end.

"Hi Bob, is Isabelle still here?"

"I am not sure, Gwen, I think she's still in her – well – your office."

Gwen thanked him and headed for their office.

"Hi there, " said Isabelle, delighted. She interrupted her scribbling on a long piece of parchment, and took off her reading glasses.

The window showed a beautiful sunny sky.

"Just wanted to ask whether there is anything new with you, or whether I can lend you a hand?" Gwen asked.

"_Bon alors, _I'm just consolidating our findings, and the variation of the spell we are using now. I am trying to get an overview, which might perhaps give us some new ideas of how to proceed."

She showed Gwen her first draft. Gwen studied it.

"Hem, interesting. Seems that we must try to stabilise the Indicimaginis variation – in order to be able to examine the waves, or images, or whatever it may be," Gwen suggested.

"Yes. Now that I've managed the spell at last, this might be my job from now on. But we also want to continue examining the brain sector where the Legilimency, or the triggering and receipt of those waves, happens."

"Oh, that sounds fascinating," Gwen sighed, knitting her hands.

"_Eh bien, _and what about your work," Isabelle asked, jerking her head in the direction of the Death Chamber.

"I succeeded in extracting a usable memory," Gwen beamed. "I hope to extract some more next week. It still won't be easy, I'm afraid a lot of memories have already gone, before the brain could be conserved… But the magic works now at last, and I'll do what I can. I only wished Jon was back."

"Where is he?" Isabelle asked, startled.

"Oh, I didn't have a chance to tell you – he's gone since Monday. Oh dear, and of course, I'm not allowed to tell you where. Well, not even to tell you _that _he's gone, I suppose."

"Never mind. So you've been alone with Crow all week?"

"Yep."

Isabelle grinned. "Must have been fantastic, I can tell from your happy countenance. How did you like the Gym this afternoon?"

"Er… it was …nice." Gwen sighed, "perhaps I'll get better if we go there more often."

"That's the spirit! And you'll see Roberta more often, too," Isabelle winked, waving her hands elegantly in that typical gesture of hers. Gwen flushed furiously.

"Don't be shy, _ma chère. _What about Rob's proposal to join her at the Quidditch World Cup final?"

"Oh, Isabelle, that would be wonderful and dreadful at once. I haven't a clue about Quidditch! I'd make a complete fool of myself."

"But you've been at Hogwarts, haven't you? You certainly have seen a Quidditch match?"

"Yes, of course, once or twice, but I found it awfully boring."

"Perhaps Manisha can explain a bit when you go with her to the smoking room."

"But what's the use anyhow?" Gwen asked, a bit desperate. "She and I are too different, aren't we? She's so brave, and athletic, healthy and strong…"

Isabelle laughed good-naturedly.

"Don't laugh at me, while I am pouring out my heart in front of you. Besides I think she doesn't even know that… what is going on. And what's more: I think she even might be in love with Timothy."

"With Timothy? _Mais non! _He's married. He has two children." Isabelle paused to think. "_Parbleu, _but so had my husband."

Isabelle had divorced her former husband, the children lived with her and her mother, and went to their father's home once a week and every second week-end.

"I really don't think Timothy would betray his wife. It's certainly just your _complex d'inferiorité_," she added.

Gwen looked at her: "Thanks for cheering me up," she pouted.

"_Bon, alors_, I'd like to go to the final, if you don't mind, I mean, in case you wanted to be alone with…"

"Don't be silly! I'd love you to come. I'd even say I'd only have the courage to go if you are coming, too."

"I could take Nicolas along, he's old enough," Isabelle pondered. "And Baptiste could stay with his _papa_."

Gwen took up Isabelle's draft again: "You know what? We could try to make a photograph during the seconds the images appear."

"Now, that's a brilliant idea," Isabelle exclaimed. "I'll ask Bob for the camera. And regarding the final – don't forget that the two of us have to apply for leave. It starts on 22 August, I've looked it up: that's a Monday. Ademarus won't be amused if the Brain Room suddenly empties."

"You are right. And we must ask Roberta to get us tickets."

Isabelle hurried out of their office to get the camera.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Thursday, 2 June 1994_

It was still early in the morning, the office was cool and Gwen shivered in spite of her long-sleeved purple robes, her black wool cardigan and her pink scarf.

The wormwood was singing _Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka-dot Bikini, _but it still sounded very feeble.

Carefully, patiently, she pointed her wand at the gyri and sulci of the victim's brain trying to detect a hidden memory, while Crow tried to stop the brain from wobbling, and resisting Gwen's search.

"There," Crow pointed his pale long finger on a crevice deep down and Gwen tried to get at the gossamer strand. She bit her lips while she concentrated on the memory.

"Got it!" she whispered excitedly. It was really diminutive.

Muttering a spell, she put the strand into a vial containing the violet-coloured liquid.

"Where did you put the pensieve?" Crow asked, frowning, and looking around.

"Oh no!" Gwen slapped her forehead. "Yesterday evening, I brought it back to the Brain Room, since Bob told me Honoria needed it to…," she stopped. "I'll go and get it."

She missed Crow's snort, since at this moment Mrs Beresford entered, and wished them a good morning. Last Monday she had told Gwen that Jon was still working with the task force near Hogwarts, and that the outlook looked rather promising (whatever that meant). She had thanked her for her report, and Gwen was really glad their relationship had become somewhat more relaxed – quite different from the one with Crow.

Mrs Beresford sat down at the desk she and Jon usually used and searched through some papers. Gwen left the office and rushed to the Brain Room.

~ooOOoo~

"Where is the pensieve?" she asked Bob. "I need it urgently."

Bob disappeared into his office, and returned with outstretched arms: "Sorry, I'm afraid Honoria still hasn't brought it back. Yesterday she took it with her to the Hall of Prophecies." He frowned. "That's why I hate giving the thing away," he complained, frowning. "Where is she now?"

Gwen didn't know what to do. She knew that Honoria was a bit muddle-headed and often left her things lying around (she usually forgot _something _on the rare occasions of her visit at Gwen's cottage). At the moment, there was still a lime-coloured scarf in Gwen's house.

"Perhaps we should have a look at her office?" Gwen suggested. They both tried to open it, but the door was shut.

"Never mind," said Gwen, not wanting to use an Alohomora spell on Hon's office door. "I'll go looking for her in the Hall of Prophecies. Perhaps you could inform me if she turns up here?"

"Yes, of course. I'll send you a memo, all right?"

Gwen nodded.

"Do you know where Honoria is?" Bob asked Firmin, who had just emerged from his office, carrying a picker-arm and a small glass tank.

Firmin shook his head: "I haven't seen her this morning, but – what. It's still early."

"I'm off, perhaps she's in the Hall of Prophecies." Gwen went to the Circular Room, and entered the Time Room.

~ooOOoo~

"And why in the name of Merlin haven't I been informed earlier?" a voice boomed through the Time Room, causing the huge crystal bell jar to vibrate slightly. Everyone interrupted their work, and Gwen froze on the spot.

She knew Roxanne Wingfield, the Time Room Manager, by sight, a stout short woman with grey hair, which she wore in a bun. She was usually a quiet and level-headed witch, so everyone held their breath as she exploded like a bomb. Roberta and her colleague Graham were standing in front of her, looking crestfallen.

"We were hoping to find them, but …," Graham started explaining, when Roberta interrupted him and pointed to Gwen.

Gwen came forward, trying to ignore Roxanne's outburst. "Good morning, everyone," she smiled feebly. "Sorry to disturb, just passing to the Hall." She looked at Roberta, who shook her head almost unnoticeably, and proceeded rapidly to the vast Hall of Prophecies.

~ooOOoo~

Mabel Tancock was standing on a ladder, putting a glass orb onto one of the towering shelves. When Gwen approached her she turned to look down at her, holding a torch in her left hand.

"What do you want?" she said, in a not exactly friendly manner.

"Good morning, Mrs Tancock, I'm looking for Honoria Brum. Have you by any chance seen her in this Hall this morning?"

"No," Mabel Tancock, the victim's ex-wife, replied tersely. She stepped down the ladder and stopped shortly before Gwen, holding the torch above her head.

"I know you. Aren't you Eleanor's friend?" she whispered in a harsh voice, her brown eyes shining in a strange way. The torch sputtered, sending glittering lights and shadows all over the shelves.

"N…no, I am not exactly her friend," Gwen answered, drawing back, and instinctively grabbing her rock crystal pendant for support. "It so happens that I was just at the right place at the right time." She wondered why she said that, but trusted, for once, her intuition.

Mrs Tancock looked suddenly very sad. "At the right time. Yes, that's a problem, isn't it? To be at the right place at the right time." She gave a gloomy laugh.

"What do you mean by this, Mrs Tancock?"

"I have the feeling that recently I have often been at the wrong place at the wrong time." She suddenly checked herself. "Aren't you the one who is examining – ?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Gwen replied, pulling her cardigan tighter around her. The Hall was as chilly as the Death Chamber. _I assume that by now everyone in the DoM knows what Crow and I are working on._

She wondered whether she could ask Mabel Tancock what her ex-husband had to do with Walden Macnair, but was afraid that if she did, Mrs Beresford would hear of her attempts at sleuthing. _On the other hand – I am supposed to "support" the investigation, _she thought.

Mabel Tancock didn't ask any further questions: "Miss Brum came here yesterday. She left very late in the evening, so I had to wait till she was gone."

"Do you remember whether she carried a pensieve with her?"

"Yes, she took it with her, she didn't leave it here."

"May I ask you a question, Ms Tancock?" Gwen gave a deep sigh.

Mabel Tancock nodded, now looking wary.

"Do you know Walden Macnair?" Gwen cocked her head. "Or have you ever heard this name from – your former husband?"

Mabel Tancock looked at her, aghast. "I know the name. But I … don't approve of this person. And I certainly don't know him personally. Nor can I imagine that Archibald ever had any dealings with him while we were married."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	23. Chapter 23

With Crow's help Gwen tried to use the time before Honoria was back to get hold of some other memories, but they didn't succeed.

At lunch time she joined Isabelle, Roberta, Timothy, and Eleanor, who had meanwhile developed a habit of sitting together. Timothy got up.

"You can take my seat, Gwendolyn," he offered his chair with a chivalrous smile. "I must leave. I've been called to investigate a case of a haunted muggle supermarket," he informed them, grinning. "Isn't it hilarious where some ghosts turn to to attract attention? See you!"

Roberta laughed and took a forkful of her mixed salad. They all said good-bye to him, and Gwen sat down.

"I'm still waiting for Honoria," Gwen told Isabelle, softly, while spreading her serviette across her lap. "We found another memory, the strand's only tiny, but you never know. I need the pensieve, which she used yesterday."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. She, too, knew Honoria's absent-mindedness. "_Moi, _I haven't seen her all-morning," Isabelle told her, under her breath.

Gwen nodded: "It's all right. Bob will inform me as soon as she turns up." She munched on her favourite dish, a Cornish pasty. Then she added more loudly: "What about our tickets, Roberta?"

"I am still working on it," the latter replied, her grey eyes twinkling. "But don't worry, my _source _told me it'll take only some days."

Isabelle clapped her hands together: "I am so looking forward to seeing the World Cup final. And Nicolas is _thrilled_."

Eleanor looked a bit sad, but she had decided not to go with them.

Roberta plunged into an extensive analysis of the English team, who would soon play against Liechtenstein. Gwen tried to understand her reasoning, but failed dismally, and lost herself in the admiration of Roberta's shining black hair, her startingly grey eyes, and her lively manner and enthusiasm.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder: "Fancy a cigarette in the smoking room, when you're finished?" Manisha, bearing a tray with steaming _Machha Jhola_, flashed her a dazzlingly white smile.

"Yes, of course," Gwen replied, slightly dazed.

"Don't you want to come to the Magic Gym with us?" asked Isabelle reproachfully. She had nearly finished her _Quiche Lorraine_. "I need to go today, this is lovely, but a bit heavy on the _estomac_."

"We went there Monday, and Tuesday," Gwen defended herself, "and I feel stiff and aching. My legs need a break." She grinned ruefully at Roberta and Eleanor, while Manisha withdrew contently to join the dark-clad Suplinius Crow, the tight-lipped Jacobus Mayfield, and the plump Evelyn Anderson at a table nearby.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

As usual, the air of the Smoking room was heavy with blue smoke. Manisha and Gwen lit their cigarettes and inhaled deeply, smiling at each other.

"Do you know that we, too, are going to see the Quidditch World Cup final?" Gwen asked, blowing fume into the air, and pointing her wand at it to give it the form of a – blue – Snitch.

"We're going Roberta, Isabelle, her oldest son, and I."

Manisha laughed: "Oh, that's lovely!" She tried to imitate Gwen by blowing a blue goal hoop above their heads. "Then we might see each other there. There will, however, be a lot of wizarding people. But we could try. What seats have you got?"

"Oh, we still don't know. Roberta is trying to get us tickets." Gwen looked around and found a service elf. "I'd like a pumpkin juice, please."

"For me a _capuccino_, please."

The elf nodded and hurried outside to get their drinks. Gwen took off her glasses to clean them.

"I've been wondering," she turned to Manisha, "whether you could explain to me some of the finer points of Quidditch."

Manisha raised her eyebrows.

"Er… I know the basics," Gwen hurried to reassure her. "But it would be nice if you could…"

"Hi Manisha, how are you?" Walden Macnair was suddenly standing behind the two smoking witches.

Manisha whirled around, her big round earrings tinkling. "Hallo," she said awkwardly. "I'm fine. How're you doing?"

"Great." He laughed a dire laugh, his small eyes glittering darkly. "Have you got a cigarette for me?" he asked, grinning broadly.

She handed him one without saying a word, obviously hoping he would leave them alone after that, which he did, after thanking her for the cadget, lighting it with a spell from his short wand, and inhaling deeply. He withdrew into a far corner of the room, as if he were waiting for someone.

"Strange fellow," Gwen looked at Manisha expectantly.

The elf arrived with their drinks, put the pumpkin juice before Gwen, and the _capuccino _before Manisha. The witches handed her some sickles.

"Yes, isn't he," Manisha replied in a drawling voice, "I once worked in the Spirit Division on Level Four, that's near the Beast Division – where he works. He's an executioner. He kills dangerous animals."

Gwen took a drag. "Do you think he is … dangerous?"

Manisha looked at her, dumbfounded. "Now, now, Gwen. You mustn't let your imagination run away with you." She gave a somewhat hysterical laugh. "He's a Ministry employee performing an official job function. He is not a popular figure, I'm right there with you, but that doesn't mean he is a… Well, you wanted me to explain something about Quidditch. What do you want to know?"

Gwen realised that she couldn't find out more about Macnair from Manisha, and tried to concentrate on the topic at hand.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

When Gwen was about to enter the Death Chamber, some paper airplanes of a pale violet colour followed her at a swoop. Along the edges of their wings she could see the usual Ministry of Magic stamp. On one of them she could decipher her own name, _Gwendolyn Bale, Death Chamber, Department of Mysteries_.

She closed the door behind her, reached for the memo, and opened it. It consisted of only four words: "Hon is back. Bob"

She re-opened the door to the Circular Room, and rushed to the Brain Room. Under the bright lamp lights, Honoria, Bob and Isabelle were standing and talking animatedly. When they noticed Gwen, they all laughed good-naturedly, and Honoria hurried towards her, her flowing robes fluttering behind her.

"I'm so sorry, Gwen, really. I heard I caused you a lot of trouble…," she exclaimed, contritely. "But I simply forgot to give the pensieve back to Bob. It's been in my office the whole time. And since I left the Department late last evening, I thought I'd relax a bit this morning… I should have noticed when I read my tarot card this morning: Six of Swords."

"Not to worry," Gwen waved her hand in dismissal, smiling, "not to worry. You didn't cause me exactly trouble, just a tiny delay. Nothing we couldn't handle."

"I'll get you the pensieve at once," Honoria promised, and bolted towards her office.

When Gwen finally received the pensieve, she went back to the Death Chamber. She let Crow know that she was back and entered Archie's office. Marilyn Beresford was there, talking to a tall, bald black wizard wearing a single gold hooped earring. Gwen remembered that she had seen him once in the Aurors' Headquarters. The wormwood didn't utter a peep for once.

"Hallo Miss Bale, Kingsley – may I introduce you to each other," Mrs Beresford asked. "This is Kingsley Shackebolt. Gwendolyn Bale."

They shook hands.

"Miss Bale is helping us in this murder business," Mrs Beresford told Shackebolt, who nodded. "She's an expert from the Brain Room." Gwen blushed in spite of herself.

"I brought the pensieve," she explained. "We managed to extract another memory, and I'll have a look at it right now." She didn't want to mention the delay caused by Honoria.

Crow entered the room, and greeted Mrs Beresford and Kingsley Shacklebolt in his dark drawling voice.

Gwen looked around, confused. "Where is the vial, Mr Crow?" she asked the dark-clad wizard, after having turned around several times. "The vial with the memory."

"You put it there," Crow pointed at the cabinet on the wall, frowning. "And I haven't touched it ever since."

"You're right," Gwen said, ignoring his ironic tone of voice. "I placed it there and left in order to find the pensieve," Gwen said. "You and Mrs Beresford were the only ones in this room, weren't you?"

"I left after you," Crow stated, drawing himself up. "It's not that I have no other work to do."

He waited. Gwen looked around nervously, but couldn't find the vial anywhere.

"The question is: Was it still here when we continued our work on the brain before lunch?"

Crow wondered.

_He's clever,_ Gwen thought, _and a quick thinker._

They both looked at each other for some seconds without speaking.

"Mrs Beresford, did you perhaps take the vial?" Gwen asked the Auror hesitantly.

Marilyn Beresford, who had been talking to Shacklebolt, turned around. "What vial?" she asked perplexedly.

"The one I left in the cabinet."

"No, Miss Bale, certainly not. Apart from that, we came back just some minutes before you two appeared."

"When did you leave the office in the morning?" Gwen asked confusedly.

"When…? What…? I left shortly after Mr Crow. Why do you ask?"

"Mrs Beresford," Gwen gulped and took a deep breath. "I have bad news for you." She gave her a significant look.

Kingsley Shacklebolt grasped her meaning instantly, bid them all good-bye in his deep slow voice, and left the office.

Mrs Beresford turned back to Crow and Gwen. "What in Merlin's name is the matter?" she asked in her hoarse voice.

"It seems a vial with one of the victim's memories has disappeared. I'm afraid someone must have stolen it," Gwen told her, gloomily.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	24. Chapter 24

_Sunday, 5 June 1994_

"And what happened then?" Miss Carthew asked Gwen, pouring the fragrant gold-coloured tea into Gwen's porcelain cup. They were sitting in Miss Carthew's garden behind her cottage on white garden chairs in the sun. The sky was forget-me-not blue, and the Gloria Dei roses exuded their exquisite scent.

"Well, it was terrible. Mrs Beresford was so angry and furious – she even lit a cigarillo right there in the office. When she'd calmed down we all tried to remember whether or not the vial had been there when Crow and I worked in the office after my search for the pensieve, and who we've met when and where, and they asked me whether I've blabbed, but the only one I talked about the memory had been Isabelle."

"Isabelle?"

"Now, don't you get ideas, Miss Carthew!" Gwen wagged her index finger at the white-haired lady. "Isabelle is beyond any doubt. That's why I decided not to tell them, I don't want them to swoop down on her like Chinese fireballs. After all, I told her in the Cenaculum at lunch."

Gwen put her fork into the slice of strawberry tart Miss Carthew had baked.

"So you think someone might have overheard your conversation?"

"Well, in fact anyone. You know that the Occlumency doesn't work properly when you're _telling _things."

Miss Carthew leant back and put her fingertips together: "That's why Unspeakables are supposed – well – to not speak." She lifted one eyebrow.

Gwen tried to look dignified. "Well, you know that's nearly impracticable among ourselves."

The old lady nodded, her green eyes twinkling: "Another slice of tart, perhaps?" As Gwen assented, she pointed her wand to the ornate silver cake server, which magically lifted a slice and put it onto Gwen's dessert plate.

They both enjoyed their tart in silence, Miss Carthew obviously pondering the whole affair.

"You realise that it must be someone from within the Department?" she asked finally.

Gwen stiffened, but then nodded.

"To be able to react so rapidly, I mean." Miss Carthew sipped her tea. "Someone who knows the Department well, who moves about freely and openly. It gives one ideas, doesn't it?"

Gwen sighed and swallowed her last crumb of strawberry tart.

"I'd like to suggest that the vial was still there when you two continued working on the brain before lunch, I mean, after your search for the pensieve."

"Why?" asked Gwen, draining her cup of tea.

"Because you'd probably have noticed the vial missing in the first place, even though you didn't use it then. One notices when things have been changed, and I think you're a good observer."

Gwen knitted her brow, she wasn't so sure about that.

"Secondly, you told Isabelle only at lunch. Before that the thief hadn't any knowledge of the memory, unless they used legilimency on you, or Crow, which I consider rather improbable. Based on these assumptions the theft must have occurred between lunch and your return to the office."

"Sounds sensible to me," said Gwen appreciatively.

"Where was the victim's colleague, by the way?" asked Miss Carthew.

Gwen looked at her with big round eyes. "Jacobus Mayfield? I suppose he was working in Crow's office as usual. Though I don't know what he's doing now, I hope he's given up on – well, you know – horcruxes. Ah – and I saw him at lunch." She took a sharp inward breath. "He was sitting at a table nearby with Manisha, Crow and that gossipy Evelyn Anderson! Do you suspect _him_?"

"No, Gwen, I don't suspect him in particular, I suspect _everyone_."

Gwen looked at her, a bit taken aback.

"I'm just trying to get all the facts in order." Miss Carthew put her cake fork down.

"I want to talk to Jonathan, perhaps he can give me more information. And I want to tell him about the horcruxes. I still haven't had a chance to do so."

"Yes, do so, my dear."

"Miss Carthew, don't you think that it could have been Crow himself, biding his time, as he knew that the pensieve wasn't available."

"Yes, of course, it could have been Crow, too." Miss Carthew looked earnest. "And listen, I'm glad you are going to talk to Jonathan about that horcrux business, but be careful to whom else you talk in the Department, my dear, be very careful!"

Miss Carthew looked worried.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Wednesday, 8 June 1994_

Gwen was running along the corridor that lead to the black entry of the Department of Mysteries. She was late. This morning she had slept in because she had been exhausted. Her head felt like it was going to implode.

The first half of this week had been horrible, and she still felt terribly tired. Mrs Beresford had resumed her grumpy attitude towards her, making her and Crow feel like a complete failure. Crow hardly ever spoke to her at all. They had continued working on the brain, but without any noticeable success. It was as if the brain didn't want to relinquish its secrets to them. Isabelle and Ademarus had been very busy, and she didn't dare join them too often, trying to focus entirely on the victim's brain, attempting to improve her spells even further. Apart from that she still hoped to find the vial, and searched the office on her knees, in case it just had fallen from the cabinet, rolled on the floor and simply been overlooked then.

On Monday, Agatha Hill had convened a conference with her, Crow, and Mrs Beresford, and after a long and earnest discussion had impressed on them the necessity to always seal the office whenever they left it unoccupied. Her cool composure had been worse than Roxanne Wingfield's shouting at Roberta and Graham in the Time Room because of the missing time-turners the other day.

Gwen rubbed her forehead, yawning. "_Wizarding researchers provide for a bright present and an even brighter future_", she mumbled, rolling her eyes inwardly, and entering the Circular room.

As usual she extracted the silver instrument formed like a double-helix with a slim rod in its centre. She pressed it, without even looking at the blue flame that erupted from the opening at its tip, felt the vibration, heard the soft purr and murmured: "_Caverotari__"_. When the blue inscriptions appeared on the black doors, another witch was standing there.

"Hi Roberta," Gwen said gloomily, putting the instrument back into her leather bag. "How are you?"

"Bad," Roberta answered dryly.

Gwen looked up, startled. Roberta was indeed looking even worse than Gwen. Her face was pale and drawn, with deep shadows underneath her red and puffy eyes.

"What's the matter with you?" Gwen whispered.

"Oh, I'm angry about those wizards from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures," she choked. "Honoria was right: There will be an appeal, and it's scheduled for tomorrow. But – appeal my foot! They're sending the executioner right with the Ministry officials, can you believe it? So the outcome is quite clear. Someone told me Lucius Malfoy has his wand in the pie."

Gwen was about to ask who Buckbeak was, but remembered in time the Hogwarts hippogriff Roberta had mentioned in late April.

"I'm so sorry for you – for him."

"And I'm hopping mad! I can't do anything. I suppose he'll execute him the same day."

"Er … who? Ah – Macnair, it's him, isn't it?"

"Yes," Roberta's eyes flashed. "He's a cruel wizard!"

"Perhaps we can go there," Gwen proposed.

Mercia Borthwick and Evelyn Anderson appeared from outside, nodded to them and disappeared into the Death Chamber.

"What?" Roberta looked up, and straight into Gwen's eyes. "And what would that be good for? As far as I know we are not allowed to enter the Hogwarts grounds."

"That's true, but…" Gwen thought of Jonathan. His task force must be somewhere near the school to protect that Harry Potter boy from Sirius Black, and she still hadn't been able to tell him that Archie and Jacobus had been working on horcruxes. Not to mention the stolen memory.

"I wanted to go there anyway," she heard herself say. "I…I still don't know how. I'll try to find a way, and inform you later on, all right?" _I must be mad to suggest this, _she thought,_ it's only because I want to impress her, isn't it?_

Roberta looked at her curiously. "We could go there riding on Amber Dancer."

"That's a wonderful idea," Gwen replied, wincing inwardly, and thinking of her fear of heights.

"I'd have to take the day off," Roberta pondered, pacing up and down the Circular room.

"Roxanne won't be amused, but … she'll understand. She likes hippogriffs. And, hey, my niece is studying in second year in Hufflepuff, perhaps I can ask to visit her because… because," she murmured. "No idea. But isn't it exam time? I read something about it in the _Daily Prophet_." She twiddled her thumbs nervously. "I don't want to mess things up for her."

"Yeah, it'll be difficult to meet her during exams," Gwen pointed out.

"Yep, but I could bring her a book she – she needs urgently, couldn't I? I'd just see her a minute, but I'd be right there on the grounds, and try to… well – what exactly?"

Her eyes were shining. Other wizarding colleagues passed all the time through the Circular room, looking at both and filing out through the different doors.

"Anyway," Gwen interrupted her stream of thought, "listen, Roberta. Try to draw up a plan on your own, I have to try to get some … further information. Let's coordinate at lunch whether we'll go North tomorrow, or not."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_I've done it once_, Gwen thought, _I'll simply have to try again_.

She had to find out where Jonathan's task force was and how to get in contact with them. She cautiously opened the door to Archie's and Jacobus' office. She was lucky: Mrs Beresford, clad in her usual dark emerald robes, was in, reading her owl post. Suplinius Crow wasn't there yet.

"Good morning, Mrs Beresford."

"Good morning, Miss Bale."

_I know a song that gets on everyone's nerves,  
__everyone's nerves, everyone's nerves.  
__Oh, I know a song that gets on everyone's nerves,_  
_and this is how it goes:_

The potted wormwood in the corner repeated its song happily. Gwen threw it a dark look. _Sometimes I think the plant is somewhat intelligent._

Gwen crossed the room to get to her desk, but was, in fact, focussing hard on the Auror sitting behind her, rummaging through her violet-coloured memos. She tried to perceive the Auror's energy field, the witch's texture.

When she had the feeling that she was as close as she could get, she turned around.

"Please tell me, Mrs Beresford," she said in a loud clear voice, holding her wand hidden inside the sleeve of her robes.

The witch put one of her memos down. "Yes, Miss Bale?"

"Where can I find Jonathan?" _Legilimens! _Gwen thought. She concentrated with all her might on Mrs Beresford's thoughts, and caught a glimpse of a small thatched cottage on a narrow street. The street looked quite familiar. She withdrew rapidly, waiting with bated breath.

Mrs Beresford frowned: "Miss Bale, you know that I can't tell you," she answered, looking around as if something had perturbed her. "That's Aurors' business." She coughed.

"I want to talk to him." _And the image I glimpsed wasn't clear enough…_

_Oh, I know a song that gets on everyone's nerves,  
and this is how it goes..._

Mrs Beresford gave her a shrewd look: "You can tell me anything that concerns this case, I've told you so before."

"It's not…, it's private," Gwen lied finally. "_Please_, Mrs Beresford." _She must think I'm barking mad,_ Gwen thought, feeling absolutely silly. She took a deep breath and concentrated again on the witch's thoughts, but didn't succeed.

"You can't go where he is."

Gwen started to whisper: "You told me he's near Hogwarts. I could meet him in Hogsmeade."

Mrs Beresford gathered all her mail up, cocked her head and grinned suddenly: "All right, Miss Bale, somehow I've always suspected it, Jonathan _has _been rather different of late. I'll tell him to look out for _you, _will that do? You could wait for him in the Three Broomsticks, couldn't you?" Her smile widened: "Or would you prefer Madam Puddifoot's?"

Gwen just raised an eyebrow. "The Three Broomsticks would be all right, thank you." she mumbled.

"When will you be there?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I suppose."

"I'll tell him that you'll be waiting for him in the Three Broomsticks," Mrs Beresford promised, taking her emerald-coloured cloak, her bag and her mail, and left the office.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	25. Chapter 25

_Thursday, 9 June 1994_

"Thanks a lot, Gwen," Roberta said, holding Gwen's right hand for some seconds in hers, when the latter had scrambled down from Amber Dancer's back. Gwen's stomach gave a funny little lurch, and she got goosebumps.

"I'll go on to Hogwarts. I talked to Pomona Sprout by fire-call yesterday, and she said that, despite the exams, it would be no problem to meet Larissa after lunch." Larissa was Roberta's niece who was currently studying in second year.

"You needn't thank _me_," Gwen shook her head. "Ihave to thank _you_ for giving me a lift."

She rubbed her ice-cold fingers, and stepped from one leg to the other, since they, too, felt stiff and frozen. Her stomach felt funny and weak after the long flight through the skies. _But it's still better than Apparating several times in a row, and losing my way_. _And Rob has been simply gorgeous._

"But it was on your initiative that we came here," Roberta beamed. "Perhaps I can do something for Buckbeak. The appeal is scheduled for two o'clock. I need to hurry. Where shall I pick you up afterwards?"

"I'll probably be in the Three Broomsticks." Gwen had told Roberta that she was going to meet Jon for "professional reasons", which was, more or less, the truth. And Gwen didn't want Rob to think … well, what Mrs Beresford thought by now.

"But we can't agree on a time, can we? Neither of us knows how much time it'll take us,"

Roberta frowned.

"You can't miss me in Hogsmeade," Gwen waved her hand. "We'll meet sooner or later. Where will you leave Amber Dancer?"

"I'll leave him near the village, in a spot in the forest where I always leave him when I come to Hogsmeade", Roberta whispered, "it's always a bit difficult to station a hippogriff, you know, a lot of wizards don't like them."

"Good luck to you, Roberta."

"And to you, Gwen. See you later."

Gwen turned, lit a cigarette, and trudged along the Hogsmeade High Street. Every few seconds she looked around as if to make sure that no-one followed her. _Why am I so nervous? _she thought and inhaled deeply. The sun was shining. _Relax, _she ordered herself. _At least there aren't any Dementors today_.

She decided to visit some shops. When Roberta had heard that the appeal was set for two o'clock she had wanted to start their journey very early in the morning, but Jon wouldn't turn up until afternoon. So, she had some time to herself.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

At three o'clock Gwen collapsed onto a chair in the Three Broomsticks and ordered a shepherd's pie and a fresh gillywater from Madam Rosmerta, who tottered away on high heels to fetch it. Gwen took off her glasses, cleaned them as usual, put them on and looked around. Three goblins were discussing in whispers with two witches, and a very old wizard was standing at the bar, drinking a butterbeer and humming softly to himself.

Gwen rummaged in her shopping bags. She had bought some lilac-coloured robes at Gladrags Wizardwear, a hawk-feather quill and parchment at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, some chocolates (for Miss Carthew and Isabelle) and fudge (for herself) at Honeydukes, and a sneakoscope at Dervish & Banges, even though it was probably useless, since the often low-quality security devices didn't work properly in the Department of Mysteries.

When Jonathan finally entered the pub, she beckoned him to sit with her. He flushed deep scarlet and joined her at her table.

"Hi Gwen," he said awkwardly, obviously not daring to look into her eyes. Gwen felt more stupid than ever.

"Hi Jon," she tried to sound cheery.

Madam Rosmerta brought Gwen's food and the gillywater and took Jon's order – a bottle of butterbeer.

"I am really eager to know what you have to tell me," he said, looking pointedly at a spot behind Gwen's shoulder. "Mrs Beresford made some … strange insinuations."

"Never mind her," Gwen tried to laugh. "I only told her that I wanted to talk to you in private to put her at ease." She lowered her voice and took a forkful of the minced lamb and potatoes, trying to ignore Jon's disappointed look. "I wanted to tell you some things that concern the murder case in our Department."

"Oh, I thought you…," his voice broke. "But why didn't you tell _her_? She's all right, I told you so." His hands trembled slightly.

Gwen put her hand on his. "Now, Jon, what's the matter?" she asked kindly.

"What…? Well, she said she had the impression that you missed me, and I thought…"

"I _did _miss you." Gwen said soothingly. "And I prefer talking to _you _than to her, I know you much better. And I like you."

He took a deep breath and withdrew his hands. "Sorry, Gwen, I've always liked you a lot, you know." He rubbed his forehead. "But I suppose I am a bit under stress right now. First the murder down in London, and now this Sirius Black business, you know – me and the others lying low all the time, not to mention the Dementors hovering around."

"Is Black here?" Gwen whispered, trying to change topic.

Jon shrugged, looking around cautiously. "We suppose he's hiding somewhere near Hogsmeade or Hogwarts."

His butterbeer arrived, and he took a swig from the bottle, wiping his mouth afterwards.

"Now tell me," he said, "what is so important that you come here to see me?"

Between forkfuls of pie, Gwen told him about Archibald Dusk and Jacobus Mayfield probably working on horcruxes, her worries about Archie's colleague Jacobus Mayfield being either involved in the murder or in equal danger, and about the stolen vial containing one of Archibald Dusk's memories.

Jonathan listened with rapt attention. "Who told you about the horcruxes?" he asked after some minutes of silence.

"Never mind, I can't tell you that." Gwen's expression became stern.

Jonathan sighed. "I'll never get used to all this secret-mongering in your Department."

"What did Mayfield tell you about all this?"

"Well, Gwen, I can't tell you that either," he grinned.

Gwen shrugged and drank from her gillywater. "By the by, do you know what time Archibald Dusk was murdered?"

Jonathan rested his head on his hands. "Well, the murder was reported at a quarter past eight. Timothy Oakden said that he entered his office at about eight o'clock, and that he didn't hear or see anyone, nor did he notice anything unusual. And he's right – there _was _nothing: We didn't find any traces of a fight. Timothy said he was quite sure that he was alone in the Death Chamber."

Gwen made a mental note of the information Jon had given her. "And what does Pluto Beckford say about the time of the murder?"

"You are a clever witch, Gwen," Jon looked at her appreciatively. "But it is impossible to tell what time exactly an Avada Kedavra is committed. Didn't you know that?"

"So it could have been anytime between seven and eight o'clock in the morning?"

"Yes. How do you know?"

"I heard Eleanor say that she left her husband at seven o'clock."

"Good girl."

Gwen felt embolded. "I've also pondered over the wand I found on the steps leading to the Arch. I suppose you used Prior Incantato on this wand?" She didn't mention that Evelyn had told her that it had been Mayfield's wand.

"Of course," replied Jonathan, taking another swig and smiling, slightly amused.

"And?" One forkful of pie hovered in mid-air.

Jonathan put his bottle back on the table. The goblins on the table nearby stood up and shook hands with the two witches, who put on their cloaks and left the pub. The three goblins shouted for some butterbeers.

A crowd of underage witches and wizards entered and looked around curiously. They were obviously Hogwarts students. _What are they doing here? _Gwen suddenly thought, _isn't it exam time?_

"You know that you may never ever tell anyone that I told you all this," he whispered, wagging his finger at her and looking stern. She looked at him.

"That goes without saying," Gwen smiled. "I'm glad to see you adopting our secretive ways."

As both Gwen's glass and Jonathan's bottle were empty, Madam Rosmerta asked them whether they wished anything else to drink. Gwen ordered a red-currant rum as a digestif, and Jonathan another butterbeer.

"Funny you asking that. The Prior Incantato revealed that the wand was used to cast the Dark Mark, but not the Killing Curse. That must have been done with a different wand."

They sat together amicably until after sunset. Gwen joined Jon in drinking a butterbeer, and smoked a cigarette, while Jonathan pondered to find a connection between the horcruxes and Archibald's death. She suddenly remembered that Jonathan perhaps didn't know about the memory of Macnair and Dusk, and told him about that, too. Jon extracted a quill and made some annotations. The pub was filling with wizarding people, and the noise-level was rising steadily.

Time was flying by. Gwen enjoyed talking with Jon about everything under the sun. It was so easy. _He's a nice guy,_ she thought. Outside, beyond the windows, darkness was falling.

"One more thing," Gwen added, hating herself, "Macnair knows Manisha Cullen, who works the Death Chamber. Formerly she worked in the Spirit Division, which is near the Beast Division." She really liked Manisha, and wouldn't want her to get into trouble, but now she'd seen her talking to Macnair several times, even though reluctantly. "But I don't think that she likes him. It's always him who addresses her, and she always seems to be trying to get rid of him."

Jon's eyebrows shot up: "That is strange. She didn't mention that." He frowned, pondering this information.

All of a sudden, Roberta was standing in front of them, beaming: "You won't believe what I have to tell you!"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	26. Chapter 26

Gwen urged her to sit down beside her, and beckoned Madam Rosmerta who took Roberta's order – a mineral water – and brought them two more butterbeers.

"Would you like something to eat?" Gwen asked concernedly, but Roberta didn't listen.

"What a day!" she panted, chewing nervously on her usual pink gum and grinning broadly.

"Have you eaten at all?"

"Don't worry, Gwen, I _must _tell you first. And you," she turned to Jonathan. "I hate shortening a really good story, but I saw, among many other exciting and interesting things, a man escaping from Hogwarts who looked exactly like Sirius Black. And I have a very good eyesight."

Jon jumped up from his seat, rummaged in his pockets and produced some coins. "Could you pay for me, please?" Gwen nodded, somewhat confused. "If that's true I must leave instantly. Sorry, girls," he waved and left the pub at a run.

"Merlin's beard, what _has_ happened, Roberta?"

"It's unbelievable, I still don't know what I've seen or not seen." Madam Rosmerta put the mineral water in front of Roberta, and took away Gwen's empty plate.

"What was that?" Roberta asked, pointing at the plate.

"Shepherd's pie, it was lovely."

"Please bring me that, too," Roberta said to Madam Rosmerta, "and another mineral water. You're right, Gwen, I'm starving." She got up again and sat down opposite Gwen.

"Listen, Gwen, I am so happy you brought up the idea of coming here, even though that hippogriff didn't need me at all," she chuckled.

Gwen was mystified.

"I'll start the story from the beginning," Roberta promised and plunged into a rather confused narration about her tethering Amber Dancer in a grove near Hogsmeade, and going to Hogwarts (_"Hoggy warty Hogwarts, it really hasn't changed at all, it was so wonderful to be back there"_), then meeting her niece Larissa after lunch, who had been quick-witted enough to not let show her surprise at suddenly seeing her aunt, then chatting with Professor Sprout after Larissa had gone to take her afternoon exams, and waiting for the appeal, which was scheduled for two o'clock.

"Imagine – Fudge himself was there! The Minister of Magic attending an appeal for a hippogriff? I ask you!"

"Shhhh," Gwen warned her. The mineral water and the shepherd's pie arrived.

The Minister and the old Ministry official hadn't allowed Roberta to take part in the appeal. Dumbledore had tried to convince them, but they had refused unwaveringly. Macnair had grinned horribly, and said nothing. As she didn't want to risk her job she had waited patiently outside of Dumbledore's office, until they had told her that the appeal was lost and the execution of Buckbeak set for sunset.

Devastated, she had paced the Entrance Hall and finally made up another plan. She had returned with Professor Sprout, pretending to be interested in the greenhouses and the magical plants in there.

"You could have asked her how to silence a singing wormwood," Gwen interrupted her stream of words. Roberta hesitated momentarily, gave her a questioning look and took another mouthful of pie. Gwen shook her head.

"Nothing, pray continue."

"I wanted to stall for time until sunset," Roberta explained brightly, "and gain her trust. As a student I had been in Slytherin, so she didn't know me too well. And I was lucky since it wasn't her turn to proctor today's exams."

Finally Roberta had asked Professor Sprout to allow her to enter the Forbidden Forest. "I told her that I was interested in magical creatures like bowtruckles and other forest beings, and that I would have asked Rubeus Hagrid to enter the Forest, but didn't want to disturb him right now. I'm not sure she believed me – no, I'm quite sure she _didn't _believe me, but when I mentioned that I love hippogriffs, she gave me permission to go down there." She dug in her pie happily.

She had given Hagrid's hut a wide berth and approached it from behind. Then she had climbed up a tree to hide in there.

"I arrived shortly before they all came down the hill: the Minister, his underling, an old chap whose name I don't remember, this horrible Macnair with an axe in his belt, and good old Dumbledore. Then I waited until Macnair had verified that the hippogriff was tethered behind the hut. I didn't want to get Hagrid into trouble, we hippo-lovers must stick together, after all. Before I could get down the tree – guess what – suddenly I saw two students leading the hippogriff away. I first considered to help them, since that was what I had roughly planned beforehand. As they were doing well, I waited until they got Buckbeak off to the forest. I observed that the officials gave up on the execution and left in a very bad mood, together with Dumbledore – he's a good man and was very content. Later Hagrid, too, went away and he was rather tipsy." She laughed. "He was singing aloud. I climbed down the tree and crept back to the castle. I was lucky, the sun had set, and it was getting dark. I even found some bowtruckles. Sprout would be expecting my return by now. She accompanied me to the Winged boars, where we chatted for another while without even mentioning the hippogriff or the execution. I think she guessed _something_, yet there was a silent agreement between us to say nothing, but to approve of each other…" Roberta drank from her mineral water, her eyes sparkling.

"And now, guess what: When Sprout returned to the castle I looked up and saw the hippogriff again – but this time flying high in the air with Sirius Black of all people on his back! What a bad surprise!"

"Oh, but you didn't tell Jon that Black escaped on the hippogriff."

"You're a good listener," Roberta replied, giving her a shrewd look. "No, I wouldn't want him to know _that_, Gwen, and please don't tell him." She laid her hand on Gwen's arm. Gwen gave a sudden shiver, which had nothing to do with the temperature inside the inn.

"The Ministry is bad enough with magical creatures, I don't want to mention Buckbeak escaping together with Black if I can avoid it, Gwen, _please_."

"But Black's a dangerous mass murderer! We need to catch him as soon as we can," Gwen frowned inwardly at herself saying "we" and coughed.

"They are looking for Black everywhere anyway, aren't they?" Roberta answered defiantly. "It's not such an important clue to know _how _he has escaped."

Gwen shook her head in disbelief. She liked Roberta and didn't want to disappoint her. But a cautious voice inside her asked: _Is she really such a hippo-lover that she is willing to incriminate herself? _Gwen sighed. What should she do now?

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Friday, 10 June 1994_

It was already a quarter to nine. Gwen was eating a hasty breakfast, while musing about her today's tarot card (the Chariot) and the letter she had got. Wookey brought her some scrambled eggs, when Gwen was buttering her toast. Someone knocked at the front door.

Gwen crumpled the letter she had received from Norma by owl. She cannot forget me, and makes every effort to make me not forget her, she thought angrily, instinctively putting on her amethysts, hoping that they would calm her down.

Wookey opened the door slightly, then fully. "Good morning, Miss Carthew," the elf piped, and curtsied.

Gwen hurried to the hallway where the old lady was standing.

"Good Morning, Gwendolyn, how're you?"

"Good morning. Do come in, Miss Carthew."

"No, no, I know you must leave instantly, mustn't you? I just wanted to show you this."

The old lady handed her today's Daily Prophet. Gwen cleaned her glasses and started reading the front page.

* * *

**Ministry of Magic messes up again: **

**Captured Murderer Sirius Black escaped.**

_By Special Correspondent Rita Skeeter_

_Sirius Black, extremely dangerous mass murderer and ex Azcaban inmate, escaped anew after having been finally arrested on the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry yesterday evening._

_Although strict security measures had been implemented at Hogwarts School and its surroundings Black apparently succeeded in giving the Dementors the slip, who were about to perform the so-called Kiss, the act of consuming the convicted's soul._

_After a week-long and inefficient hunt, it had by no means been the Aurors, but the Hogwarts Potion Master, Professor Severus Snape, who had valiantly taken Black in custody and handed him over to the Ministry officials. _

_Black had possibly been helped by a former friend of his, Professor L., who has been in the Headmaster's employ since last September, although the latter knew that L. is a werewolf._

_To top it all, it was the Minister of Magic himself who oversaw the proceedings, and who now is making the excuse that Black might have been helped by a Confunded and deeply disturbed Harry Potter, which is utterly unlikely since the Boy Who Lived had been hospitalised at that time…_

* * *

Gwen let her arms drop, and looked at Miss Carthew. "Sorry, Miss Carthew, but I must leave instantly. I suppose there will be a lot of talk and hubbub in the Ministry, and perhaps they'll want to interrogate me, too." She sighed, looking longingly at her breakfast, and thinking of Mrs Beresford.

"No problem, Gwendolyn. I thought so myself. That's exactly why I wanted to show you the newspaper. I know you read it occasionally, but you're not a subscriber. Now hurry."

"But…," Gwen suddenly lowered her voice, and listened for a moment. Wookey had withdrawn to the kitchen. "I've got at least one piece of new information about … well, you know. It seems the death was really caused by an Avada Kedavra, and therefore they can't determine at what time the crime was committed."

Miss Carthew frowned. "Pity," she murmured.

"And Timothy Oakden, the one who reported the murder – I told you about him, do you remember?"

Miss Carthew nodded. "The fellow who works on ghosts and spirits. A blond good-looking wizard, that's him, isn't it?"

Gwen looked at her curiously. She didn't remember having told her that Tim was good-looking. _Well, he is handsome_, _but how does she know?_ Gwen frowned. _Does she look into my brain? _

"Yes, that's him," Gwen gave her back the newspaper. "Timothy said he entered his office at eight o'clock and that he didn't notice anything or anyone unusual. And that he was sure that he was alone in the Chamber."

"How can he be?" Miss Carthew asked. "There are a lot of office doors on the walls up in the Death Chamber. The murderer could have hidden in one of the offices."

Gwen nodded slowly. "That's true. Oh, and I remember that Eleanor had told the Aurors that she'd seen someone in black robes. Timothy usually wears blue or dark-green robes."

_But is this irrelevant considering the fact that a murderer perhaps wouldn't dress as they usually do, _Gwen thought.

"When did Eleanor see that person?" Miss Carthew asked.

"At seven o'clock, much earlier. Maybe that person had left later on. Anyway, Eleanor wasn't sure about it."

"That's really confusing. But let's focus on the facts. Does Timothy always enter at eight o'clock?" Miss Carthew asked.

Gwen shrugged. "I don't know."

"I see. But did the murderer know? Did they suppose or did they know that the Death Chamber would be empty at a certain time, or did they take a risk committing the crime under the Arch?" She drummed her slim fingers on the newspaper. "I must repeat, Gwendolyn, that you must be very careful. Something is very wrong in the Department of Mysteries."

"Don't worry, Miss Carthew. I always take care of myself. Ah – another point is that Jonathan told me that they didn't find any traces of a struggle or fight in the Death Chamber. What do you make of that?"

Miss Carthew looked at her indulgently: "Now, now, Gwendolyn. And what do _you_ make of it?"

"That it was a very powerful wizard?" Gwen looked like a question-mark.

Miss Carthew shook her head slowly. "Maybe. It could mean several things. I remember you telling me that the body was lying face-down on the dais. It could mean that the victim didn't _notice _his murderer, who crept up on him from behind and cursed him in the back. It may also mean that the victim _knew _his murderer and didn't expect being killed."

Gwen shivered. She had a sudden vision of a dark-clad figure, lurking behind the Arch of the Death Chamber, moving about silently. She grabbed her amethysts for reassurance.

"You must hurry, Gwendolyn," Miss Carthew said softly, looking at her golden wrist-watch.

"One more point," Gwen remembered. "Something funny. The wand I found on the site of the crime, you know, Mayfield's wand – it was used to cast the Dark Mark, but not the AK."

"Oh," Miss Carthew exclaimed. "Now, _that's _really interesting!"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	27. Chapter 27

The Brain Room was full of wizarding people.

Isabelle and Ademarus were working together on a brain, the French witch looking excited and tense, Ademarus wrinkling his brow in concentration. Honoria was talking animatedly to the platinum-blonde Vivi Gregorius who was standing beside a trolley full of prophecy globes. Bob, in his usual red overall, was carrying through the monthly maintenance of the brains in the big tank. He was bearing a tray in front of him, laden with vials and flacons. Firmin was sitting at one of the desks, scribbling something on a large parchment, a small tank with two brains in it standing at his side.

"_Bonjour_, Gwen!" Isabelle cheered at her when she approached, while Ademarus gave his usual absent-minded nod instead of a welcome.

"Mrs Beresford's been enquiring after you," Ad informed her.

"She looked rather stressed," Isabelle pointed out.

"I thought so." Gwen replied gloomily. "How's your work going?"

"You know that we've been able to prove that the Legilimens receives images transported by waves which I started calling 'empathic waves'," Isabelle beamed, proudly. "Now we've got documentary evidence, _regarde ici_."

She produced some rather blurred photographs which showed two brains and between them some sinus-shaped shining objects. "But that's not everything those waves contain. We think there's more to them," she explained, frowning at the brain in front of them. "We want to find out what else those waves contain."

"I like you giving them a name," Gwen chuckled. "Couldn't we call them the 'Gautier waves'? Sounds smart."

"But it was _your_ idea, not mine," protested her colleague.

"You can't be serious," retorted Gwen. "Which wave would want to be called the 'Bale wave'?"

They laughed, and even Ademarus joined their mirth by giving a dry smile, even though his eyes betrayed that he was preoccupied by other thoughts.

Vivi, on garish red high heels with the rattling trolley in her wake, and Honoria, in her usual flowing earthy-coloured robes and adorned with amber stones, approached them.

"Have you all read the _Daily Prophet_?" Vivi asked, whispering. "Heard about the mess they made at Hogwarts?"

Isabelle, Ad and Gwen nodded. Isabelle and Ademarus were regular subscribers to the wizarding paper. Honoria looked mystified since she never read the newspaper, but only the Quibbler once in a while.

"_Moi_, I don't understand why it had to be a Hogwarts teacher and not the Aurors who caught Black," Isabelle wondered.

"And why in Merlin's name did the Aurors and the Minister of Magic let Black escape?" Ademarus frowned.

Gwen didn't say a word. Nobody of them knew that she had been in Hogsmeade at that time. She hadn't had the time to tell Isabelle; and Ademarus, who had approved her leave, didn't know where she had gone, only that she had wanted to meet Jonathan.

"I was wondering why people in the Atrium were standing around whispering," Honoria chuckled. "What has happened? Could you please fill me in?"

As Vivi started to explain what Rita Skeeter had written in today's _Prophet_, Mrs Beresford opened the door from the Death Chamber and looked at the gathered group.

She glared at Gwen, and the latter, taking the hint, rushed towards her.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

Mrs Beresford closed the door to Dusk's and Mayfield's office with a bang.

"Sit down, please," she pointed to a chair.

Gwen obeyed. "Good morning, Mrs Beresford, what's the matter?"

The Auror sat down. "You were _there_," she picked up a quill, drumming its point on her desk. "Isn't it a bit strange that you are always in the thick of things?"

"What do you mean?" Gwen crossed her arms in front of her chest, frowning indignantly and occluding her mind even more than usual – just in case.

The Auror dropped her quill to count on her fingers: "The day of the murder, accompanying the victim's widow, listening in the Hall of Prophecies, yesterday in Hogsmeade."

The woodworm started singing. "_I went to the wood and got it; I sat down to look for it. And brought it home because I couldn't find it. I went…_"

Mrs Beresford turned on her seat and flung the quill in the direction of the plant. It gave a shrill squeak. Gwen froze, then checked herself.

"What's that about Hogsmeade?" she retorted. "You gave me your permission!"

Mrs Beresford leant forward on the desk and asked in her deep rasping voice: "What do you have to tell me?"

"Nothing," Gwen exclaimed defensively. "Well, I was in Hogsmeade all the time. That's the absolute truth." She held up both hands. "You can trace my shopping activities if you like. And in the afternoon and evening I was together with Jonathan. The only one who was at Hogwarts was my colleague Roberta. And it was _her_ who informed us about Black's escape."

"I interrogated Miss Dunphy this morning." Mrs Beresford sat back again.

Gwen wondered whether Roberta had finally told her about the hippogriff or not. "Where is Jon, by the way?" she asked in an attempt to change the subject.

"Came back this morning," the Auror grumbled. "He's interrogating Macnair, by the way. Ever after you sent us your interim report about the victim's memory of Macnair we've been keeping an eye on him, but couldn't arrest him. Seems that he has friends or protectors in high places. But now with that escape business… he being there in the morning, and Black gone in the evening. I ask you!" She coughed.

The woodworm started singing his song again, but this time very softly.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you did the whole day out there, and what Miss Dunphy told you and Mr Hope in the evening."

Gwen was glad to have strengthened her mental defences beforehand, and plunged into a concise summary of her day at Hogsmeade, and Roberta's narrative about Buckbeak's release, but was careful to not mention Black's escape on _Buckbeak_, as she had promised her colleague.

"Where do you think Black is now?" Gwen finished, considering it a good idea to ask questions instead of being asked them.

"He could be anywhere," Mrs Beresford shrugged. "I assume he's gone abroad. More secure for him. Even to a ruthless wizard like him it must have been a shock to have been nearly handed over to the Dementors. As we haven't found any Apparition traces, I am convinced that he had help. I wonder whether he will come back one day to go after Harry Potter. He has no scruples…"

Gwen looked at the clock on the wall. "Where is Mr Crow?" she asked Mrs Beresford, who had finally turned to her own work, which meant littering her desk with a lot of memos, parchments, and newspaper cuttings.

Mrs Beresford looked up. "I don't know."

Gwen went to the desk where the tank containing the victim's brain was standing, took off the cloth they usually used to cover it and observed it with a sad expression. _Why can't you tell me what happened?_

She took out her wand and paused to think. The new spell had worked better than their usual Extracting method, that was true, but she wasn't satisfied. Maybe there were other more effective possibilities. _Perhaps I should try a completely different spell? _she wondered. She ran her finger through her brown curls.

"I'll be upstairs in the library," she informed Mrs Beresford. "Perhaps there are other possibilities to get information from this brain."

Mrs Beresford gave a short affirmative grunt, not looking up from her work, while the woodworm was humming happily.

Out of habit Gwen passed through the Brain Room to get to the Circular Room. Isabelle was putting a brain back into the big tank. Apparently she wanted it to get a pause. One iron rule of the Brain Room was that breaks had to be observed to protect the brains from exhaustion.

"Hi Isabelle, is Ad in his office?" Perhaps Ademarus could give her a hint as to what books she should be looking for.

"_Non, ma chère_, he's not in at the moment." Isabelle shrugged. Then she came closer: "Did that Auror give you a hard time?" she whispered.

"Yes… and no," Gwen grinned. "I think Jonathan is right, she seems harsh, but she's ok. I'm going upstairs to the library now."

"Oh!" Isabelle thought for a moment and looked around. "Can I go with you? I could consult 'Brain Research and Neuroscience' by Wulfo Hopkins," she smiled.

She put the cover on the tank, dried her hands and linked arms companionably with Gwen. "_Allons-y_, let's go!"

~ooOOoo~

The cool female voice announced the Divisions of Level Five. They were leaving the lift, when Isabelle asked: "And what about Norma?" She was clearly enjoying this, by now, rare opportunity to have a chat with Gwen.

"Funny you asking that right now. This morning I've got another letter from her," Gwen sighed.

"What does she write?"

"Like always: She wants me to go and see her. Wants me to talk to her." Gwen answered. "Or rather, she wants to talk to me. I wonder whether I wasn't being clear enough when I left her."

"Ah, _non, j'crois pas_," Isabelle soothed her. "You said good-bye. You left. You got your own place. What else should you have done?"

Gwen drew a resigned breath.

They opened the large oak door that lead to the Ministry of Magic's library. Gwen liked the dim, dusty room of the large Ministry library with its thousands of books, tomes and magazines on towering high wooden shelves. The air was musty, but the silence and warmth were somehow soothing and comfortable. Some wizards and witches seemed to think that it was also a nice place to take a nap.

Today the young dark-haired Corvin was in charge of guarding the library and book lending.

"Hi there," he beamed at them, "nice to see you. Can I see your ID cards?"

They produced the blank black cards made from thick parchment, which Gwen had also used to get her floo powder. Using the appliance that looked like a square piece of glass in a metal frame on four tiny silvery legs, he verified their data and whether they had any books in their possession (which they had not). Then he let them enter the library.

They went straight to the Research section. While Isabelle flipped through a big leather-bound tome, Gwen traversed the long shelf, somehow hoping for a flash of intuition.

"Perhaps you shouldn't even read her letters," Isabelle whispered suddenly, continuing her former conversation. Gwen turned around, a book in her right hand, and joined her at the desk.

"What did you say?"

"_C'que j'veux dire_, reading her letters, only opening her letters means that you are still at her disposal, _tu vois_? Just send them back unopened, "return to sender"."

"Sounds cruel." Gwen whispered in return.

"No, it's being straightforward and consequent."

"I'm sorry for her," Gwen admitted. "She's always been so jealous. Without reason, mind you," she added hastily. "Well, you know my attitute towards monogamy, but I've always been true to _her_. I mean, seeing that it was much more difficult for her – as a Lesbian, with me, you know."

Isabelle nodded: "But she _knew_. You needn't have pity, she wouldn't want that either_. _You, heed my advice for once and you'll see she'll give up. Perhaps you'll be able to be friends at some time in the future – when she has let go."

Gwen got up with a sigh, closed her eyes and put a finger randomly on a book in the shelves. "I'll try, Isabelle."

She opened her eyes again and looked which book she had chosen: "Oh, "_Rekindling Memories of the Dead_" by Marjory Witch, what's that?" She flicked through the brittle pages. "Hem, looks a bit old-fashioned, um, um, black candles, incense sticks and the dark moon, but you never know…"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	28. Chapter 28

_Thursday, 16 June 1994_

"I have the impression that Mrs Beresford doesn't want me to talk to Jon in private anymore," Gwen whispered to Isabelle. It was half past twelve and the Cenaculum was jammed. They cut their way through the crowd, looking for two empty seats.

"What's the matter today?" Isabelle wondered, looking around and balancing her tray, laden with Greek salad and a grilled chicken drumstick. "Seems everyone decided to lunch at the same time today. _Alors_, and what gives you this impression?"

"Look there!" Gwen pointed to two empty seats directly in front of the windows which today showed the impressing panorama of the Austrian Alps.

"_Merveilleux_, this is the Grossglockner, I've been there with my ex-husband and children when we.. Well, I know it," Isabelle interrupted herself reminiscing, while pointing at the snow-covered mountains.

The slender, white-haired Alex Campbell from the Death Chamber got up, lifting his tray with a hovering spell: "If you want to look at the mountains, I'd be glad to offer you my seat. I'm finished with my lunch." He was followed by his colleague Mercia Borthwick, who nodded friendly to the newcomers.

Gwen smiled and put her tray on the brilliant white table. Today she had opted for a tuna fish salad and some French baguette Isabelle had recommended.

"You were saying…?" Isabelle tried to take up the thread of conversation.

"I haven't seen him _alone _ever since we met in Hogsmeade."

"Do you miss him?" Isabelle gave an innocent smile.

Gwen ignored her question. "She's always with him. Keeping him busy all the time." She pouted. "I suppose she distrusts me. She interrogated me, and pointed out that I am always right in the middle of things. But that's not my fault…"

"Speak of the troll," Isabelle whispered suddenly, clearing her throat.

Gwen looked around. Mrs Beresford and Jon, both carrying a tray with food, were looking for a place to sit down. When Jon caught her eye, she waved at him. The Aurors sat down at a table nearby.

"You could slip him a piece of parchment," Isabelle suggested, still looking pointedly innocent, when Gwen turned back to continue her meal.

"I've got no parchment with me," she grumbled. _Behaving like Hogwarts students._ She shook her head.

Isabelle rummaged in her handbag and handed her some parchment and a quill, looking expectantly. Gwen rolled her eyes, scribbled something on it, refusing to let Isabelle see what she had written, and rolled it up into a small roll. Isabelle giggled.

When they left the Cenaculum, they passed the table where the two Aurors were sitting. Gwen said hello to both, asking some polite and – as she thought – rather stupid questions, while Isabelle used her wand, hidden in her sleeve, to inconspicuously get the paper into Jon's bag. Mrs Beresford didn't notice the little manoeuvre, Jonathan smiled.

When they were outside in the Circular room they clapped each other's hand, now both of them in high spirits.

"Thank you, Isabelle," Gwen finally gasped, "I'm glad _something _worked today."

"What do you mean?"

"You remember the book I found in the library the other day?"

Isabelle frowned. "Rekindling Memories of the Dead?"

"The very one." Gwen looked gloomy again. "It contains some interesting spells, but they are really complicated. Even Crow had to admit that one needs time to accomplish them."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

The sight was breath-taking. Gwen was sitting cross-legged on her favourite rock on a large brown sheep skin, smoking a cigarette and looking at the sea waves. The sun was in the West and dyed the ocean gold, scarlet, crimson, and purple. She inhaled deeply. The salty air was wonderful. A cool breeze was blowing, but the last sunrays were warm on her face and arms.

She didn't turn around when she heard the sudden popping sound of Apparition. Jon had obviously found and read the message she had written in the Cenaculum.

"How are you?" she asked. She took a last drag from her cigarette and extinguished it.

"Bit tired," he said, sitting down at her side, "but this is wonderful." He pointed at the sea. "And how're you?"

"Bit hopeless," she said, thinking of her vain attempts to elicit more memories from Archie's brain. "I'm not making any progress with the brain, you know. I've found some new interesting spells, which I hope I can use instead of our own wonderful new extracting method, but they are somewhat old-fashioned and … er… very complex."

"You wanted to talk to me in private?" Jon's eyes glittered.

"Well, I've got the impression that Mrs Beresford is trying to prevent exactly that. Don't you think so?"

Jon laughed: "Yes, it's true, she's really suspicious, but the entire Auror force is nervous and edgy at the moment, and Black's renewed escape was a staggering blow." He fidgeted a little. "It seems he used a hippogriff, because there is one missing at Hogwarts?"

The last was meant as a question and he looked into Gwen's eyes. She blinked uneasily.

"Oh, that's interesting," she said in a rather high-pitched voice.

"You and your colleague, too, arrived on a hippogriff."

"Well, but that was Roberta's hippogriff, Amber Dancer…"

"I know," Jon grinned, "but why on earth did your colleague want to go to Hogwarts?"

"She wanted to bring her niece a book, and she wanted to attend the appeal to save a hippogriff." _I must tell him that, he surely knows about the appeal, and that Roberta wanted to be there._

"See? She knew about the hippogriff."

"Ye-es, but they didn't let her take part. She told me she had a conversation with Professor Sprout and …" Now Gwen went into a tailspin. What had Roberta told Mrs Beresford when she had interrogated her? She didn't know.

Jon leant forward: "And what?"

His face was very close. His brown eyes were indeed nice. She blinked again. His eyes got softer. She waited.

"You don't really know, do you?" he said softly. "You only know what she told you; you were with me during the whole afternoon. She said she had gone to the Forbidden Forest looking for bowtruckles and other forest beings."

"But that's true," Gwen defended Roberta. Jon withdrew and Gwen felt a bit dizzy.

_What was that?_ she thought. She took a deep breath and pointed to the wicker basket she had brought. "Do you want a butterbeer?"

When he nodded she extraced two bottles, on which she had placed a Cooling charm, and opened them. He took a deep gulp.

"Ahhh, that's good." He wiped some butterbeer from his lips.

"I've also brought some sandwiches."

"Oh, a picnic." He beamed and sat a bit closer to her. She noticed that she didn't mind it.

"Chicken or ham?"

They both started with chicken. Wookey had outdone herself again.

"And what news have you got?" Gwen asked boldly, knowing perfectly well that she hadn't told him any news at all. "You interrogated Macnair. What did he tell you?"

Jon was munching on his sandwich. "Hem, excellent! Macnair – I think we're on the right track there! I'm not sure whether he helped Black to escape, but he has definitely no alibi for the morning of Dusk's murder."

"But," Gwen interrupted, "how could he have entered the Department?" She took a sip of butterbeer.

"He must have had help. We tried to winkle more information out of him. We asked him about Manisha Cullen, but he says he just knows her by sight. And that she was a _tasty girl_." Jon's lips curled. "Sorry, but those were his words. However he admitted to having known Dusk, when we confronted him with the conversation we had seen in the memory you extracted. He claimed that he had lent him gold. A lot of galleons."

"And?"

"Nothing more. He says he got his money back."

"Do you believe him?"

"We continue observing him."

"Eleanor doesn't even know him."

"We know. How come _you _know?"

"I asked her. After all, you wanted me to get you some inside information."

Jonathan smiled: "I see what you're getting at. It's strange that she doesn't know Macnair, or about her husband borrowing a lot of money from him. We've asked her again. They seem to have done almost everything together. I think Macnair is not telling us the whole truth, or he would have told us earlier that he knew Dusk."

Gwen shivered. The breeze had become somewhat colder. The sun was nearly gone, tinging the sky and the sea deep red.

Jonathan sat a bit closer still and put his arm around her shoulder.

Her head started to spin, her heart gave a funny little drum roll, and she didn't dare to move. At the same time she enjoyed his warmth, his closeness and the beautiful panorama.

"On the other hand Macnair told us," Jon continued as if nothing out of the extraordinary had happened, while a slight trembling in his voice gave him away, "that Dusk was a pure-blood, and that's why he wouldn't even touch him."

Gwen turned her head slightly and looked directly into his brown eyes. Then they talked no more.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	29. Chapter 29

_Friday, 17 June 1994_

It was still early in the morning when Gwen woke up, as refreshed and relaxed as she had not been for a long time. She stretched luxuriously, yawning loudly, then relaxed back into her pillows, closing her eyes. When she heard a high-pitched giggling, she opened them immediately, and just got a glimpse of the backs of two electric blue pixies escaping out of her open window.

She propped herself up on her pillows, put on her glasses and looked around her bedroom, but she had obviously noticed them in time, since the room seemed undisturbed.

As she felt hungry, she threw back her covers to get up. She padded to the kitchen, put on the kettle, humming 'Somewhere beyond the sea'.

_That was a lovely evening, _she thought.

While she rummaged through her kitchen cupboard to look for something to eat, she let her mind wander.

_Aren't you in love with Roberta? _an inner voice, which she used to call her 'inner censor', scolded. _Why do you start … well what? … with Jonathan now? _

Gwen frowned and tried to concentrate on her search for food. A sudden crack announced Wookey's arrival in the hallway.

"Good morning, can I help you, Miss?" the house-elf asked after entering the kitchen. "I heard you had got up," she plucked shyly at her pink, frilly terry towel. Gwen knew that Wookey had an extremely good hearing.

"Morning, Wookey. Breakfast would be nice. You know what? I'd fancy some millet gruel with fruit and yoghurt. Do we have millet?"

Wookey looked startled and shook her head. "I'll get some," she replied, "and some strawberries and a banana. Do you want cream, too?"

"No, no cream, thanks."

Wookey disapparated on the spot. Whistling happily, Gwen prepared her Darjeeling tea, put a cup on the table and sat down to just stare out of the window.

She tried to sort her thoughts. _I am accountable to none. I am free after all. It's true that I fancy Roberta. But I like Jonathan, too. _She remembered yesterday evening. He smelled good. And he tasted good.

She took a sip of tea and burnt her lips. That brought her back to reality. _Don't worry too much, you just kissed and hugged. _It had been long kisses, though._ Enjoy it as long as it lasts._

Wookey apparated back and started at once to cook the gruel, and wash and slice the strawberries.

Gwen felt a need to be nice to someone. "The sandwiches you made yesterday were superb, Wookey," she praised the house-elf, who blushed scarlet and hastened to set the table for her.

The breakfast was delicious, and Gwen ate two bowels full of gruel. After she had finished her tea, she scribbled something on a piece of parchment, rolled it up and asked: "Are you going to Miss Carthew next?"

Wookey nodded and bowed.

"Could you please bring her this?"

The house-elf nodded, bowed again and withdrew.

She extracted the tarot cards from her dark-blue satin pouch and drew one. _The Devil_.

"Now what..," she gasped, staring at the huge bearded and horned figure above a pair of naked and horned humans, who were chained to the Devil's seat.

_It often means confusion, _she tried to calm herself_. Or adherence to obsolete ideas, an error, a delusion. _She put the cards back into the pouch. _It surely doesn't mean that what you're doing is devilish._ But she felt a nagging doubt.

An hour later, Gwen entered the Atrium, deep in thought. _Perhaps I should stop drawing a card every morning. It confuses me. _

At the same time Miss Carthew, in her nice tidy cottage, opened the piece of parchment Gwen had sent her, sipping her morning tea, while Wookey served her some toast with orange marmalade.

"Dear Miss Carthew:  
Macnair has no alibi, but says it wasn't him, since the person in question was a pure-blood. Admits, however, to have known him, and claims to have lent him a lot of money. The widow, however, does not know him at all! No further news. G. B."

~ooOOoo~

The wormwood was prattling angrily in its corner. Gwen ignored it, and wished Crow, who was pointing his wand at the brain in the tank, and Jonathan, who was sitting at his desk, quill in hand, a good morning.

Jonathan beamed at her. Surprisingly Mrs Beresford was nowhere to be seen. "What is it singing today?" Jon asked her brightly, pointing with his quill at the greyish-green wormwood.

She suspected that he wasn't really interested in the plant, but simply wanted to talk and look at her. His eyes were shining. She grinned conspiratorially and listened to the plant's sounds.

"Sounds to me like _Thirty thirsty sailors_," she informed Jon. Crow raised his eyebrows, but didn't say a word.

"Perhaps it's thirsty," suggested Jon, "it sounds so grumpy. Has anyone ever watered it?"

Gwen shrugged, but went to the corner and felt the potting soil. The wormwood stopped singing and prattling, and gave a soft moan.

"I think you're right." She looked around and found no watering can.

Jon stood up, and took one of the mugs, a pale-blue one, from the small table at the wall.

Gwen's heart nearly missed a beat when she saw that he filled what she thought – and had told him! – could, after all, be a horcrux with water from the sink.

Nothing happened. Gwen relaxed. Her knees felt like jelly. Jon hadn't noticed her shock. _It's just a mug,_ she thought, _a blue mug. You're getting paranoid. _But then, merely touching a horcrux might mean no harm? She didn't know.

Jon watered the plant, which first sighed happily, then gave a sudden shrill shriek, tumbled over and wilted on the spot.

Jon jumped. "What's the matter with it?" he exclaimed, looking at it aghast. "Is it…?"

Gwen took up one of the leaves and felt it. "Perhaps it wasn't thirsty after all. Or it's just gone to sleep?" But she knew at the same time that something was wrong. She felt sorry for the plant, even though it had got on their nerves constantly.

Jon shook his head.

Now even Crow approached. He touched the leaves and the stem, and examined the plant closely. He cocked his head and said slowly: "If I were you I'd examine the contents of this mug," he pointed his long slim finger on Jonathan, who was still holding the mug in his hand.

"Is there anything left inside?"

Jonathan jerked as if awakening from a trance and looked inside the mug.

"Yes," he answered, "only some droplets, but that should be enough. Do you think…?"

"All I know," Crow said, "that a singing wormwood is a very robust plant and manages to get along without water for a long time. Sometime, however, it needs water as any other plant." He took a deep breath. "But _only _water," he emphasized.

The wormwood was obviously stone-dead. Jonathan put the mug slowly down on the desk.

"Do you want to imply that this mug contains anything _dangerous_?" he asked Crow bluntly.

"Doesn't it seem so?"

"Why would Dusk and Mayfield need a dangerous substance in here?" Gwen interposed. "Were these things always standing together on this table?" She pointed at the other items on the table and looked at Jonathan meaningfully.

Jonathan shook his head. "I'll go and ask Mayfield." He took up the mug, ready to storm out of the office.

As he opened the door, Crow said: "I recommend you ask Evelyn Anderson, she's our poison and toxic potions expert in the Death Chamber." Gwen eyed him, surprised at his sudden cooperativeness.

"I'll ask no one in this Department, we have our own experts," Jonathan replied, somewhat fiercely. The door thudded closed and he was gone.

Crow and Gwen looked at each other, Crow sneering, and Gwen rather baffled.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	30. Chapter 30

_Sunday, 19 June 1994_

"I'd like to make a guess that this mug contains, among other substances, venom from runespoor fangs," said Miss Carthew, seemingly unsurprised at what Gwen had told her. She didn't even look up from her needlework.

They were sitting in Miss Carthew's parlour. Outside the sun was shining brilliantly, the sky was forget-me-not-blue, and birds were twittering in the apple tree near the wide open window.

Gwen gaped: "What? Why do you think it's runespoor venom? And why would Archie and Mayfield use it?"

"Did you know that this venom together with some other ingredients makes a nearly undetectable deadly poison called _Invisibiliserum_? You can look it up in there." Miss Carthew got to her feet, took a book from a stack of books and magazines beside the fireplace and held it out to Gwen. "Got it from an old friend of mine, she's a healer at St. Mungo's."

Gwen looked at the title and stared at her. "How come you've been researching _'Deadly Poisons and How to Identify them'_?" She was completely perplexed.

"Well, you told me that Mayfield's wand was used to cast the Dark Mark, but not the Killing Curse, which I found rather remarkable. I assumed that perhaps it hadn't been that Unforgivable Curse, after all. I considered what other possibilities there were to murder a person. And then I remembered that you told me two months ago that you had had a problem with the concentration of the preservation solution in the Brain Room tank."

"But… you told me it could be an error by the manufacturer of the runespoor venom," Gwen protested.

"Yes, of course, that was one option. Another option would have been that someone had stolen part of the venom and filled the vials up with water, or something else."

Gwen put down the book, sank into an armchair and fumbled in her pocket. She would have loved to smoke a cigarette. As Jonathan was a non-smoker, she had, indeed, considered quitting smoking (Roberta didn't like it either, for that matter), but now her head started whirling, and she felt she needed to relax and concentrate.

"Do you mean that the liquid in the mug in Archie's office might have been the murder weapon, so to speak?"

"It might be. Let's see what the Aurors' poison expert finds out."

"What would the other ingredients be?"

"Armadillo bile, daisies, sopophorous beans, and ginger to neutralise the taste, smell and look. And coffee or tea. It's very complicated to brew, but nearly undetectable and its effect is instant."

"I'll ask Jonathan. I'll tell him what you told me. And I'll keep you up to date."

Gwen hadn't told Miss Carthew about the new developments between her and Jonathan. She didn't know how to phrase them.

"Thank you, Gwen." She took the book and placed it back on the pile. "But please don't tell the Aurors that it was _my _idea. They wouldn't like you to share your knowledge with an outsider."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Wednesday, 22 June 1994_

Gwen exited the Magic Gym after an exhausting session with Roberta, Timothy, and Eleanor.

Everyone except her looked refreshed, rosy and bright. She kept quiet. As usual Roberta had secretly used her time-turner to do even more exercises. Timothy, too, was an athletic type and had no problems to keep up with Roberta, and even Eleanor was slender and sporty.

Gwen's self-confidence was at an all time low. Even though she now joined the "gang", which usually included Isabelle, too, (who today had a meeting with Ademarus and Agatha Hill), once a week, she was out of breath and felt clumsy. The others were nice and didn't tease her, but she would have liked to look better at the Gym.

"I have to go upstairs to Level Four, to the Spirit Division," Timothy informed them cheerily and left them in somewhat of a hurry.

"Gwen, I nearly forgot – can I give you the tickets for the Quidditch Worldcup final?"

"Oh, you've got them?"

"Yep, here they are," Roberta handed her the tickets. "I've got Isabelle's, too. Will you give them to her?"

Eleanor looked at them a bit sad.

Gwen nodded. "I think, I'll see her later in the Brain Room. How much is it?"

"If you've got the money with you – it's one hundred galleons for your ticket. I'll settle up with Isabelle later."

Gwen gulped. "No, I haven't so much money on me."

Roberta waved her hand. "Well, give me the money as soon as you can, no problem. It's my fault I haven't told you before that I got the tickets at last."

They parted in the Circular Room, Roberta went to the Time Room, Eleanor opened the door, which led to the anteroom of the Planet Room, and Gwen went directly to the Death Chamber, as she didn't think that Isabelle would be already back in the Brain Room.

When she opened the door she collided with the well-rounded Evelyn Anderson, whose face was red and angry.

"What's the matter?" Gwen looked at her in astonishment.

"They must be mad," Evelyn exclaimed. "Turning everything topsy-turvy. I'm going to complain to Agatha Hill!"

"I don't understand…"

"The Aurors and their helpers. They say they're looking for something. But they don't tell me what it is. I could have helped them if they had asked. They must be absolutely crazy. Wreaking havoc in my office. I really can't work like this," she protested.

"But … they did let you go?" Gwen blurted out, suddenly suspicious.

Evelyn took a sharp inward breath and gave her an unfathomable look. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly.

"N…nothing." Gwen could have slapped herself.

Evelyn threw her a dark and even angrier look, and rushed out of the Death Chamber, slamming the door behind her.

Gwen pondered for a moment, then headed for Evelyn's office. At that moment Manisha opened the door next to it, and peered out of it, her big round eyes glittering.

"What's the matter?" she whispered, when she caught sight of Gwen. "What are they doing? It's pandemonium next door."

"Shhh," said Gwen, "I'm trying to find out myself." Manisha nodded, and held the door slightly ajar, following Gwen with her gaze.

Gwendolyn tiptoed to Evelyn's office. She listened outside with baited breath.

"Armadillo bile," she heard Mrs Beresford's deep voice booming triumphantly. Gwen's eyes widened.

"But isn't that a common potion ingredient?" Gwen assumed that that was Alex Campbell's voice. "Dear me, what are you looking for? If you told me…"

"Don't worry, Mr Campbell, let's just do our work, and please try to reason with Mrs Anderson. She wants to complain to Agatha Hill, who has already given her approval to our searching this laboratory."

"I think I'll stay here with you," she heard Alex Campbell's calm voice again.

Suddenly the door flew open. Gwen had no time to retreat, and quickly raised her hand as if she had wanted to knock on Evelyn's door. It was Jonathan.

When he saw her, he hastened to shut the door behind him, and drew her away by her arm, whispering furiously: "What in Merlin's name are you doing here, listening at the door?"

"I didn't listen, I wanted to enter…"

"I don't believe you. I used a Detecting charm some minutes ago, and noticed that someone was standing outside." He looked annoyed, but also worried.

"Are you looking for armadillo bile, daisies, sopophorous beans, ginger, and, above all, runespoor fang venom?" she whispered, and was glad that she had such a good memory for names. _Offence is the best defence_, she thought.

He grabbed her arm even firmer, his eyes opening wide. "How do you know?"

She gave him a disarming smile. "If you let go of my arm, I could tell you – in private."

He released her arm. "Sorry, but I can't leave now. Let's meet tonight… no, can't either, … tomorrow night then. Ok?"

She nodded. He put his hand on the doorknob. "Where?" he asked, his whisper barely audible.

"There's a place near Tinworth, name's Dew Drop Inn. Joshua Kendall, the landlord, is Hugh's brother. Hugh's my neighbour, you know."

"All right, I'll find it, see you there." He blowed her a kiss and hurried back to the laboratory.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Thursday, 23 June 1994_

The evening air outside was mild and soft, the sun still shining without a cloud in the sky, but inside the Dew Drop Inn it was dim and dusty. On the small tables several wizarding people were drinking butterbeer and enjoying Joshua's excellent Cornish pasties. A worn-out red carpet absorbed some of the noise and a magic jukebox was playing songs by the Weird Sisters.

Gwen was sitting at the broad wooden counter, flicking through the _Tinworth Daily _Hugh had handed her along with the big tankard of fresh cool butterbeer. Another wizard was sitting at the counter, curiously eyeing her once in a while. The room was, however, not engulfed in smoke like the Three Broomsticks, as Joshua had banned cigarettes in his inn. So Gwen had left hers at home, trying to be brave.

"I'm doing well," said Hugh, answering Gwen's question of how he was doing. "Lots of work, but that's all right with me. My brother and I want to go on a trip to Italy in September, so we'll need the galleons."

Joshua, who had just cleaned some tankards with a Tergeo spell and was putting them back on the shelves, just nodded. If Hugh was the quiet type, Joshua was even more silent still. He closely resembled his brother, but wore no beard and was a bit younger and paler. Gwen continued flipping through the newspaper. The headlines about Sirius Black's second flight were no longer predominant, she noticed. It obviously was much more important that in a Quidditch Worldcup play England had been defeated by Liechtenstein.

Jonathan entered the inn. He wore a grey tweed coat and a trilby of the same colour, which he had pulled down over his eyes. He looked around, caught sight of Gwen and joined her at the counter.

When he kissed Gwen on the cheek, she noticed that Hugh gave the newcomer a piercing look. _Behaving like a big brother again, _she grinned inwardly.

As Hugh didn't attend Jonathan immediately, his brother Joshua came forward. Jonathan took off his trilby and ordered his favourite drink, a butterbeer. Gwen introduced them.

When Joshua turned to get the butterbeer, Jonathan came to the point directly.

"Now, Gwen, how come you know the exact ingredients of that mug?" He looked worried.

"How come you found them out. I thought the serum was _invisible_…"

"Gwen! You sometimes make me wonder whether Mrs Beresford is right to suspect even you!"

"But then I wouldn't talk to you so openly, would I?" Gwen took a sip from her tankard, trying to remain calm.

"That could be part of your tactics," he grinned, then got solemn again. "Do you remember Pluto Beckford from the morturary? He was devastated when I asked him to analyse the liquid in the mug. It was _Invisibiliserum _and tea. The potion is nearly untraceable in a body, but if you know what to look for, it is possible to identify traces of it."

"But there is no more body." Gwen remembered the funeral, and the urn, with a pang.

"But there is! We've still got the brain. In spite of all measures taken to preserve it and to detect what memories it contains Pete managed to verify that _Invisibiliserum_ was used to kill Archibald Dusk."

"You analysed the brain? How? When? It's _me _who's working on it... I didn't notice…"

Jonathan grinned, shaking his head. "We, too, have our secret ways. I gave it to him in the evenings, after you and Crow had left. We didn't want to alert _anyone_, if you know what I mean."

"Do you suspect Crow? I thought you were still after Macnair?"

Jonathan sipped his butterbeer. "We can't exclude no one. Macnair's probably a dark wizard, even though he denies it. He might have been interested in the horcrux business, if your hint in this respect is true. _I _suppose he has a partner in crime in the Department."

Gwen pondered: "But if the poison was in the office and its effects are instant, why was the victim lying on the dais?"

Jonathan sighed: "Death Eaters love dramatic effects. They want to show their power. Putting the victim in the centre of the Death Chamber with the Dark Mark overhead is exactly their style. Now, please Gwen, you must tell me why you know so much about the serum. How come you know about its ingredients and its instant effect?" He squeezed her hand, looking so desperate, that Gwen had to suppress a laugh.

"I've been… thinking." She occluded her mind, remembering Miss Carthew asking her not to mention her involvement. "You told me that Mayfield's wand wasn't used for an AK, and then I remembered that our tank manager had a problem with the preservation solution just a few days before the murder occurred. The concentration of runespoor fang venom was too low. The rest was…er… a bit of guesswork, research and combination."

Jonathan looked at her with trust and even admiration. She felt like adorning herself with borrowed plumes, and hoped she didn't blush.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you _now_. I didn't recognise earlier that there is a link between the venom and the murder."

"Your tank manager is Bob Warnock, right?"

Gwen nodded. "But he certainly has nothing to do with…" She liked Bob, and didn't want to get him into trouble.

"Nobody has, apparently." He emptied his tankard. "Anyhow, I'll have to interrogate him. And Manisha Cullen, of course, as she seems to know Macnair. But they are all such good Occlumens…" He looked desperate.

Gwen sighed and wiped a bit of foam from her lips. "There's one thing I still don't understand."

Jonathan looked at her expectantly.

"How come the murderer, or their accomplice, left the mug with the residual poison in the office?"

"Now that's a good question." Jonathan frowned. "Yeah – why should they be so careless?"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	31. Chapter 31

_Sunday, 26 June 1994_

"_Comment_?" Isabelle's eyes widened. "I thought you are… you fancy Roberta?"

"I do," Gwen answered feebly. They were drinking tea in Gwen's sitting room. Outside a fine drizzle was falling. The window was open, the soft air entering the room from outside smelled earthy and fresh. "That's why I feel so bad. Jonathan is very nice, but I am not madly in love with him."

"Though I sometimes noticed that you were interested in him, too." Isabelle grinned. "You are a little butterfly, aren't you?"

Gwen sighed deeply. "I wouldn't express it like this. I like him, I… I love him. I like Roberta, too. I sometimes think my heart is very big. Is that morally reprehensible?"

_I had to tell someone or I would have burst, _she thought. She had served a Darjeeling tea, and some shortbread. Isabelle, who never ate very much, munched happily on a tiny piece.

Then she looked at her, now in earnest. "You know that I know you and I know that it isn't. But others would think that it is. You have to be honest to him."

Gwen nodded, feeling a bit better. It was always good to share one's thoughts, even though one didn't reach a final solution.

"_Eh bien, _and what about this murder business?" Isabelle asked, taking up her cup with elegant fingers. "Isn't it a bit difficult for Jonathan? I mean, him as an Auror and you, as one of the potential suspects?" She took a sip of tea, then put the cup down again.

Gwen gave a mirthless laugh. "Don't worry, Mrs Beresford compensates for any lack of suspicion on Jon's side." Then she admitted: "I think it's not easy for him. The work in our Department is very difficult for him. The staff isn't exactly cooperative and Agatha Hill, too, is adamant regarding our secrecy. And on top of it all he falls in love with an Unspeakable."

"Have you made any progress?" Isabelle asked, a bit shyly. "I mean, only if you are allowed to tell me."

_I am not, _Gwen thought. "Yes, we've found out… some things. Like that it was not an AK, but poison." If there were three people Gwen trusted from the buttom of her heart, it were Hugh, Miss Carthew, and Isabelle.

Isabelle nodded. "_Bon, _don't worry, and don't tell me anymore. I don't want you to get into trouble. So, what will you do about Jonathan?"

Gwen took another piece of shortbread, put it into her mouth and let it dissolve on her tongue.

"I'm not sure. I do enjoy being with him, being near him, you know."

Isabelle smiled.

"He's such a nice guy. And I don't want to hurt him. Must I take a decision?"

"_Alors,_" Isabelle said. "Not now, not right away. I think you should be honest and not behave as if you were madly in love with him. I mean at the moment you needn't tell him more. Perhaps later?"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Wednesday, 29 June 1994_

Jacobus Mayfield was standing in front of the Arch, focussing hard. When he heard a door opening, he looked up. Gwendolyn Bale entered the Death Chamber. He gave up his concentration and let his wand arm sink. He saw her, wrapping her black wool cardigan around her, approaching his and his colleague's former office. In this instant, he decided to talk to her.

He climbed up the stairs. "Miss Bale?" he asked, trying to hide his nervousness.

"Yes, Mr Mayfield." Gwen looked at him in surprise. Up to now, they had never exchanged any more words than the polite 'Good morning' or 'Good afternoon'.

"I'd like to have a word," he said softly, casting a fleeting look around.

She merely nodded.

"I've been told you destroyed my singing wormwood."

"What!" Gwen gasped. "Er… n…no, I didn't. Who says so?"

He didn't answer.

"Well, it was I who suggested to water it. It felt so dry, and it seemed to call for water." She didn't mention that it had actually been Jonathan who had used the mug with its poisonous contents.

Mayfield looked a bit calmer.

"Was it _your _plant?" She eyed him curiously. With his straight parting, ironed clothes and horn-rimmed spectacles, he didn't seem the type to own such a cheeky magical plant.

"Yes, it was," he said with dignity. "A present from my nephews. They've got a somewhat strange humour." He frowned. "But they certainly meant good."

"I'm really sorry, Mr Mayfield." Gwen said, contritely. "I didn't know it was a present from your family. We should have asked you first."

"Well, you couldn't know." He wrang his hands, but seemed soothed. "And you couldn't know that Archibald's mug contained a poison."

"Was it – Archibald's mug?"

"Y-yes, sorry, I thought you knew already," he looked around anxiously. "Since you are involved in the investigation, that is. I told Mr Hope about it. Archibald used to drink his tea from this mug. It said… I mean, it says 'Have a happy tea break, Archie!'"

"Oh, how stupid of me. I didn't notice any inscription." Gwen shook her head, only remembering a blue mug.

"No, of course not, it only revealed its inscription when it contained hot tea, and only when Archie drank from it," Mayfield explained. "I think he got it from his wife."

_How sweet, _Gwen thought. "Is there anything else we should know about the …items in your office?" she asked, suddenly crisp.

He seemed to avoid looking directly in her eyes.

Gwen waited.

"No, certainly not. At least, as far as I know. There should be nothing poisonous. Mr Hope has asked the same question, and I've told him."

_I wonder whether he asked you about horcruxes,_ Gwen thought, staring at Mayfield, but not daring to ask him aloud. She wasn't an Auror, after all. She'd ask Jonathan, though.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Friday, 1 July 1994_

When, after lunch, Gwendolyn entered the Brain Room, she was whistling contently. She had managed to extract another memory from the victim's head. This time she hadn't told anyone about it, not even Crow, who hadn't been in the Death Chamber all morning. He had told her that he had "some urgent business to attend to in Diagon Alley", which had left Gwen dumbfounded, since he normally didn't explain where he was going when he was out of office.

"Hi Bob," she addressed the tank manager cheerily. "How're you?"

He looked around, and when he saw that no one was around, he replied in a whisper: "So, so. Those Aurors have been interrogating me _again _all morning. About the missing runespoor fang venom, d'you remember that strange incident this spring?"

Gwen looked at him rather remorsefully and nodded. Yet she deduced from his words that Jonathan hadn't told him that he'd got the information from _her_.

"Did they give you a hard time?"

"No, no, this Hope fellow's quite all right." Bob dipped a big sponge into a bucket. A huge number of small glass tanks was standing on one of the desks.

Honoria exited her office, draped in her usual flowing linen clothes. "Hi, Gwen!" she greeted her joyfully.

Gwen smiled at her. "Good to see you."

Bob extracted the sponge from the bucket, squeezing it firmly. Then he started scrubbing one of the small glass tanks. "Can't do this with magic," he informed them when he saw Honoria gazing at his hands. "This liquid is very special, y'know."

Honoria laughed: "I know. Isn't it good to think that there are some things that can't be done by mere wand-waving?"

"Bob, could I borrow the pensieve again?" Gwen asked the tank manager. Bob wasn't very pleased, but went to get the stone-basin from his office.

"How're you, my dear?" asked Honoria. "I haven't seen a lot of you lately."

"I'm still working here and… there," Gwen pointed to the door leading to the Death Chamber, "but as we two have got different working hours we might have missed one another." Honoria nodded. "I'll be glad to return here, though," Gwen added as an afterthought. "How're you doing?"

"Fine," Honoria replied brightly. "It's been such an interesting time with my trance groups! And I'd like to start a project with you and Isabelle." Her voice fell into a whisper. "I'd like to know whether your Gautier wave research can be applied to trances, too. I'm thinking of the increase in beta and theta waves."

Gwen gaped at her: "What an ingenious idea! That sounds really interesting. And what exactly are…"

At this moment Bob arrived with the pensieve. "There you are," he said, "but please take care and bring it back as soon as you're finished with whatever you need it for."

Gwen forgot her question, promised Bob to guard the pensieve like gold, and hurried to the Death Chamber to analyse the memory she'd been able to extract.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	32. Chapter 32

"_It's wonderful, darling," Eleanor whispered. "You don't know how I enjoy that, coming from such poor circumstances." She blushed and dropped her gaze. _

_Archibald squeezed her arm, and looked around. A lot of people in elegant robes were drinking, laughing, and chatting merrily. A chamber orchester was filling the elegant palace hall with pleasant classical music. _

_Vivi Gregorius, wearing a long narrow claret-coloured dress with a low-cut back, and matching high heels, stroked her short platinum-blonde spiky shock of hair. She was talking animatedly to a tall, broad-shouldered wizard, wearing an elegant dress coat._

"_Look who's there, Archie. What is she doing here?" Eleanor breathed in her husband's ear. A strand of her blonde hair tickled his nose. _

"_I suppose she knows a lot of people," the black-clad Archibald answered, smiling at his beautiful wife, who had linked her gloved slender arm through his. "Has to. For what she's doing she needs to be well-connected." _

* * *

Before Gwen could learn what else they were whispering the memory ended. Gwen got out of the pensieve. _I'm curious what the Aurors will make of this memory._

She ruffled her short brown curls, and took a deep breath, ready to plunge a second time into the pensieve to get a closer look, when the office door opened abruptly.

Jonathan entered, Evelyn Anderson in tow. "Please sit down," he pointed to a chair in front of his desk.

"I really don't know why I'm to be interrogated _again_," Evelyn complained.

"I just wanted to ask you a few questions," Jonathan shut the door with a bang. "Please don't make such a big fuss."

"Do you want me to leave?" Gwen asked in a low voice. She didn't really want to, and hoped her tone of voice would make them negate her question. It worked. _It's magic, _she thought.

"Oh, no," Evelyn replied angrily. "Since it'll be only a few harmless questions, it won't be necessary to talk privately."

Jonathan, who had opened his mouth to answer Gwen's question, shut it again. Gwen looked at him, he nodded at her quietly, intimating that she could stay.

Jonathan sat down in his own chair.

"Runespoor fang venom, armadillo bile, daisies, sopophorous beans, and ginger – doesn't that ring a bell?" Jonathan asked Evelyn straight away.

"Do you want to assert you've found runespoor fang venom in my lab?" she asked, in a slightly shrill voice.

"That's the only thing we _didn't_ find in your laboratory," Jonathan shot at her. "Now please answer my question."

"The ingredients you mention make up a potion called _Invisibiliserum, _as far as I know. I've never worked with it."

"But aren't you the poison expert of the Department of Mysteries?" Jonathan asked innocently.

"I wouldn't call myself that." Evelyn put her pudgy hands on the desk in front of her, straightening her back. "My position is partly sponsored by the _Wallace and Avalon Apothecary_, one of the most renowned magical pharmacies in South England."

"I know. So you are not an Unspeakable, are you?"

"No. But nevertheless I am bound to a high degree of secrecy, according to…"

"I know, I know," Jonathan lifted his hands, frowning. "Everyone in here is. Now tell me why you store all the ingredients to whip up _Invisibiliserum_ except runespoor fang venom, and affirm to not work with it."

Evelyn crossed her arms over her huge bosom. "Dear me! Armadillo bile is a rather harmless ingredient compared to all the other substances I work with in my laboratory. It is widely known as an ingredient for making a whit-sharpening potion. I find it also very useful in other compositions, but won't tell you anymore about it, because these are trade secrets. I do understand if you're suspicious about sopophorous beans, which are quite another matter. Together with valerian roots and asphodel in an infusion of wormwood," Gwen gave a sudden jerk, "they are used in the Draught of Living Death, with which I've been experimenting lately. But please, Mr Hope, I implore you to treat this information confidential." She knitted her hands.

"What kind of wormwood?" Gwen asked, who was not even pretending that she was working with the victim's brain.

"Artemisia absinthium," Evelyn replied automatically, looking at her in astonishment.

"Not a singing wormwood?"

"No," Evelyn laughed, "that's something very different." Gwen would have loved to hear more about the plant, but Jonathan continued his interview.

"The Draught of Living Death?" Jonathan asked her, trying to get back to topic.

"Well, I suppose you as an Auror know that it's nothing lethal, but only a very strong sleeping potion," Evelyn said sneering.

"Of course," Jonathan hastened to answer.

Gwen suppressed a grin, since she knew that Jonathan had been abysmal in Potions at school.

He had told her that after having taken his NEWTs at Hogwarts he had gone abroad for a while, then had been a dragon keeper and a writer, and ultimately worked some years with a potioneer to make up for his knowledge gaps in potion-making before he started a career as an Auror.

"Now, as for daisies and ginger," Evelyn continued, almost rolling her eyes, "I hope I needn't explain _them…_"

"If you needed runespoor fang venom," Jonathan ploughed on, ignoring her haughty manner, "where would you procure it?"

"I think there are two or three very good manufacturers", Evelyn said elusively. "I don't need it, so I haven't any contact with them."

Jonathan leant forward. "If you work for Wallace and Avalon, you certainly know who the manufacturers are. And don't tell me that they are the only ones who sell the venom. I suppose some apothecaries do so, too."

Gwen wondered whether Bob had told Jonathan where he obtained his supplies from.

Evelyn got up, sighing. "All right, I'll get you some addresses, where you can make further enquiries. But I have to look them up in my laboratory. Would you please follow me, Mr Hope."

They left the office. Gwen stayed behind, impressed by Jonathan's course of action.

The office was suddenly deadly silent. Gwen caught herself thinking that she missed the singing wormwood. She sighed and returned to the pensieve, hoping she could find anything of interest inside the newly found memory.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Wednesday, 6 July 1994_

"_T'sais, _next week I'm going on a holiday with the kids. We're going to Port Grimaud on the Côte d'Azur for three weeks," Isabelle's pale face beamed like the sun.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!" Gwen put down her wand, and the brain in the tank in front of her wobbled a bit.

"I wanted to ask you whether you could continue my work on the 'Legilimency waves', perhaps combining it with your Occlumency findings?" Isabelle took up her wand and indicated on some of the brains in the large tank. "It would mean more work for you in the Brain Room again. But I think you wouldn't mind that, now would you?" She grinned conspiratorially.

"Has Agatha Hill given her approval?" Gwen asked.

"Yes. I've asked her. She says you've managed to divide your time between working with Crow in the Death Chamber and continuing for some hours in here, so that should be no problem." Isabelle lowered her voice. "Apart from that Crow should now be able to do some more work on the victim's brain."

Gwen felt a pang of uncertainty and mistrust when she heard Isabelle's last sentence. "Did Mrs Hill say so?" she asked, trying to sound unperturbed.

"No, of course not, she didn't tell me about 'the victim's brain', but I think that was more or less her meaning."

"I really envy you," Gwen sighed. "I'd like to get out of here for some weeks, thinking of nothing else than the sun and the sea and a lovely evening in a French restaurant."

Isabelle laughed. "The kids are thrilled. I hope I can keep them in check till next Monday. When will you take your summer holidays?"

Gwen shrugged. "I don't know yet. Apart from the few days you and I got for the Quidditch World Cup final I haven't been able to make plans. For me, the investigation of the murder is first priority, and Jonathan…"

She fell silent. Jonathan had been gone to find out who had bought a certain assortment of ingredients recently.

"Do you want to go on a holiday with him when your case is closed?" Isabelle asked, smiling innocently.

"What an idea!" Gwen exclaimed and threw a cleaning sponge after Isabelle. "He is so absorbed in his case that he can't think of anything else – like leading a private life, for instance."

They had only met some hours during the last week-end when Jonathan had told her that he was Apparating to and fro across the whole British Isles to interrogate apothecaries, potioneers and potion suppliers.

"_Alors,_ _moi, _I hope you'll solve that mystery soon," Isabelle looked suddenly earnest. "I don't like the way the atmosphere in the Department of Mysteries has changed. Everyone is looking at each other with suspicion and mistrust. Haven't you, too, noticed that?"

Gwen nodded her assent. "You're right. I've got the impression that everyone keeps to themselves. Especially in the Death Chamber. First I thought it was only because I am an outsider, so to speak, but Manisha, whom you could call an outsider too, since she works for that Hindi millionaire, told me the other day that it had been different before. And it was. I am on first-name terms with some of the staff. But the climate has become colder during the last weeks."

She took up her wand to resume her work with Ernie, thinking about Manisha.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Sunday, 10 July 1994_

"What about Macnair?" asked Miss Carthew, snipping some wilted blossoms off her Falstaff roses.

"I think Mrs Beresford is still keeping an eye on him. They can't arrest him as they have no _proof _of his involvement in the murder, or in the Black escape, but perhaps this way it'll be easier to find out who his accomplice is," Gwen said, taking up one of the blossoms, which still gave off a bit of scent. "Did I tell you that Macnair knows one of the Death Chamber staff, Manisha Cullen? I for one like her, she's always been friendly towards me. I can't imagine that shehelped him to enter the Chamber. Why should she? And what's more – Macnair spoke to her openly, and he wouldn't if he wanted to hide this connection to the Death Chamber, would he?"

"Well," Miss Carthew hesitated. Manisha being a likeable person wasn't enough for _her_, Gwen could tell. "I'll have to think about that. And the Aurors think Macnair helped Sirius Black to escape after the latter had been caught by Professor Severus Snape at Hogwarts?"

Gwen shrugged. "Don't you think so? One Death Eater helping the other?"

"Strange things are happening," Miss Carthew mused, "a prisoner escapes from Azkaban of all places, horcruxes are researched in the Ministry, known Death Eaters are doing whatever they like." She brandished her secateurs as if wanting to threaten an invisible enemy. Her eyes flashed. Gwen had never seen her this way.

"Mark my words," the old lady said. "I've never believed that Voldemort is truly defeated."

Gwen flinched at the mentioning of the name, fumbling at the red blossom she had picked up.

"It's all so confusing. Macnair had obviously known the victim and has no alibi for the time of the murder, but he says he wouldn't even dream of killing him since Archibald had been a pure-blood. Which seems logical. But perhaps not so if you consider that Archibald and Mayfield worked on horcruxes. A dark wizard like Macnair might be interested in such dark magic. On the other hand Macnair couldn't have entered the Department. The murderer seems to be dangerous and daring, and yet didn't use the Killing Curse, but rather a poison. Someone seems to know the Death Chamber like the back of their hand, but is gormless enough to leave the mug with the poison in the victim's office while the victim is found elsewhere – with a Dark Mark above him."

Gwen shook her curls as if trying to clear her head.

"That's a wonderful summary of some of the finer points of this case, my dear." Miss Carthew laid down her secateurs and got out her wand, pointing it at some greenfly on the roses. "Ah! The mug. What else do we know about the mug?" The greenfly dissolved. Some little black ants beat a hasty retreat.

"It was Archie's mug," Gwen replied, remembering what Mayfield had told her. "Mayfield told me so. According to him it was a present from Eleanor, Archibald's wife. He said that the mug had an inscription that read 'Have a happy tea break, Archie' and only appeared with hot tea inside, and when Archie drank from it."

"Which means nobody can prove now that there was such an inscription and that it was Archie's mug. Or that Eleanor gave it to him. Have you or Jonathan asked the widow whether this is true?" Miss Carthew asked shrewdly.

Gwen's mouth dropped open. She hadn't thought of this possibility. "This might be important, mightn't it?" she nearly whispered.

Miss Carthew nodded, taking off her gardening gloves. "You never know. Don't you go to the Magic Gym with her and some other colleagues once in a while?"

Gwen nodded. Her sporting prowess had finally improved a bit, and she still liked to be near Roberta. If she was honest she still fancied her, even though she liked Jonathan, too. Thinking of Roberta made her blush and she hastily occluded her mind, as strongly as she could. She still had the impression that Miss Carthew was able to read her thoughts.

"Yes, but I haven't had the opportunity to find out more about Archibald from her. It's too awkward to try to talk about her murdered husband when doing sports. But I'll give it a try as soon as I see her again."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	33. Chapter 33

_Tuesday, 12 July 1994_

It was still early in the morning. The sky was light blue, and some clouds were passing by lazily. The sounds of the breaking waves and the screams of the seagulls could be heard in the distance. Gwen's window stood wide open, a smell of salty air filled her bedroom. She moaned softly in her sleep.

_She twirled around, frightened, when a tall broad-shouldered man got up from his knees behind her, gave a shrill laugh, and turned on his heel in a whirl of robes. He pointed his wand upwards and cast the Dark Mark above him, yet she could not recognise his face. Suddenly he disapparated in a whirl. The Chamber was dim and cold._

_She moved forward and saw Archibald Dusk lying on the floor on his back, his eyes wide open, looking at her accusingly. She knelt down, hurting her knees, and held his cold hands firmly. "I'm not alone!" he exclaimed. "Do you hear me? You'll see that in my memories!" She felt a pang of guilt. _

The scene suddenly changed._ She was standing in a huge garden, the sun was shining brightly and she smelled at a big red rose. Vivi Gregorius, in a cloud of perfume, and Mabel Tancock passed by, and bowed to her. Then she noticed that there were many other people, dancing and chatting on a green lawn. Mabel Tancock asked her: "You are Eleanor's friend, aren't you?" _

_Vivi smiled, without a word, and took off her high-heeled shoes to dance with the blond Timothy Oakden, while Roberta danced with Manisha, whose big round earrings glittered in the sunlight. "She's just a colleague, and I'm sorry for her loss," Gwen explained to Mabel, "as I'm sorry for yours, too." Mabel Tancock started weaping. Timothy came forward to console her, and looked at Gwen with his sympathetic green eyes. Suddenly the face changed, only the green eyes remained nearly the same – those of a young woman with long red hair, a pale freckled face and a small snub nose._

"Norma," Gwen woke up with a start, rubbing her eyes. She looked at her round red alarm-clock, but couldn't read the time without her glasses.

„It's half past six," the clock informed her, guessing at her short-sightedness. „Have you had a bad dream?"

Gwen groped for her glasses and put them on. "Yeah, I think so," she answered the clock's question. _It is becoming rather nosy_, she thought.

Suddenly she heard a knock on her front door. Still thinking of Norma's memory in her dream, she froze on the spot.

Without making any noise she took up her wand and her cardigan, wrapped the latter around her shoulders, and tiptoed out of the bedroom into the small hallway. There was a second, now somewhat louder knock. She heard someone harrumphing outside and recognised a man's voice.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, Jonathan," came the answer, "I'm sorry to wake you up that early, but I thought better now than never." Gwen could almost see his bright smile. She opened the door and was engulfed in a big hug, whereafter followed a long kiss. The trilby fell to the ground.

"Fancy a nice breakfast?" He held a paper bag in front of her nose, wherefrom a seducing smell of fresh-baked rolls emanated.

"Yum-yum," Gwen laughed merrily, her bad dream almost forgotten. "All right, let me dress and call Wookey to lay the table."

He pouted: "I don't mind you wearing this… what is it?" He looked her up and down.

"Erm…," she folded her arms across her chest and hurried to her bedroom, "just a …erm.. leisure suit, I hate nightshirts, or pyjamas, you see."

He chuckled. He had obviously noted that it wasn't a very new suit, and that the trousers and jacket didn't exactly match neither in style nor in colours.

When they were sitting at Gwen's kitchen table, the sun cast its bright rays on the sumptuously laid table. The tea was steaming in their cups, and Wookey served ham, beans, and scrambled eggs. Jonathan buttered a roll.

"Have you found out anything new?" Gwen asked him, when Wookey had left the kitchen.

He nodded, his mouth full. "Y'won'b'lieve'it," he mumbled, then swallowed. "Yummy, this is delicious." He took up the napkin and wiped his mouth.

"Well…," Gwen drummed her fingers on the table, "don't keep me on tenterhooks."

Jonathan grinned, wagging his index finger at her. "Don't you push me. I've been working hard these days, and deserve a treat."

He reached for some fried mushrooms. Gwen dug into her eggs and waited, trying to conceal her curiosity.

"Have you got any news for me," Jonathan asked innocently.

"Well, I wanted to ask you whether you've asked Eleanor about that mug. Was it really a present she gave to her husband, or is that just a statement by Mayfield with the aim to draw our attention to her?"

He looked at her, startled. "Now that's an idea. But why should he tell a lie, if Mrs Dusk could easily prove it false?"

"It would be her word against his." Gwen took a sip of orange juice.

"Ah," he replied slowly, picking absentmindedly at his food. "Which means, if she says it wasn't her present, Mayfield might be trying to confuse us, or the widow might be lying at us, both for whatever reason. All right, my dear, I'll ask her. Perhaps she says it's true, and it was really a present from her." He cocked his head. "Apart from that it might, of course, be completely irrelevant who gave him the mug. Archibald Dusk might have owned it for a long time, it was just there standing on the table, and the murderer knew that it was his, and inserted the poison."

Gwen nodded. "Of course. But one never knows. Anything might be an important detail. Do you know that I extracted another memory from the … brain? Have you already had the opportunity to examine it?"

He nodded, and took a sip of his tea.

"And?"

"I think I'm going to ask Vivi Gregorius whether she remembers having met the Dusk couple on the occasion of that event, or concert, or whatever it was."

They continued some minutes silently with their breakfast.

"What did you want to tell me about your research with the apothecaries? What have you found out?" _Isn't that a sly way to pump him for information? _Gwen looked hopefully at Jonathan. And he fell for it.

"I found an apothecary who sold daisies, sopophorous beans, and ginger to a wizard he recognised on one of the photos I showed him."

Gwen put down her fork and knife, staring at him.

"But no runespoor fang venom." Jonathan added, lifting his index finger, then took another sip of tea.

"Well – we agree that the venom had been stolen from us, from the Brain Room. Who was it?" Gwen tapped her foot impatiently.

Jonathan extracted a photo from his jacket and put it down on the table. It showed a black-clad wizard with long black hair, a crooked nose, black eyes and a pallid face. He threw them a sullen look and tried to walk out of the photograph.

"Suplinius Crow?" Gwen whispered. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Thursday, 14 July 1994_

After having taken a shower in the Magic Gym, Gwen, Roberta and Eleanor were dressing.

Gwen put on her violet-coloured tunic, while Roberta brushed her short black hair vigorously. Eleanor, in pale-pink robes, was rummaging in the depth of her big round bag to find her rose-quartz pendant.

When they entered the _Bistro _Roberta told them with apparent cheerfulness: "Sorry, dears, but I must leave immediately today. I have a lot of work on my desk, and Roxanne is still … erm… hard on us…" She didn't explain any further, but Gwen thought she knew what her meaning was.

"Do you fancy one of those frizzling energy drinks?" Gwen asked Eleanor, who nodded happily.

"I'd love to."

They ordered their drinks with Amelinda, the slim green-haired sportswitch, who filled two glasses for them, which they took with them to one of the small tables.

"Where's Isabelle?" Eleanor asked. "I think I haven't seen her since ... Monday?"

"She's gone on a holiday for three weeks," Gwen sighed, "I really envy her. She went with her children to the Côte d'Azur."

"Oh, that's lovely," Eleanor took a sip from the straw, "and you, aren't you going on a holiday?"

Gwen took an inward breath and looked straight into Eleanor's blue eyes. "No, I can't. The investigation is top priority."

Eleanor looked down on her small white hands. "Are there any … new developments?"

Gwen didn't answer, and took a sip from her pink drink. She really loved the energy drinks by now. When drinking the pink one, a tingling sensation seemed to flow through her limbs, and refreshen her body from inside.

"Well, I suppose you are not allowed to tell me," Eleanor laughed mirthlessly. "Time's going by. You know, I sometimes feel like being caught in a bad dream." Gwen shifted uneasily on her seat. "I get up, and I'm lonely. I have breakfast, and I'm lonely. I work, and I feel lonely. And angry."

Gwen raised her brows.

"Not at you, of course," Eleanor whispered hastily, putting her glass down. "At the murderer. At the Aurors. I… I feel so," she stretched out her palms, "helpless."

"Have you been threatened?" Gwen looked shocked, nearly choking on her pink drink.

"No, really now, don't you worry." Eleanor shook her fair long hair. "It's just that I can't _do _anything. And I want him to be punished."

"_Him_? Do you think the murderer is a man?"

"Oh, I don't know," Eleanor blushed. "Of course, a woman, too, could perform the Killing Curse."

"It wasn't…," Gwen stopped herself. Obviously, no-one had told Eleanor that Archibald Dusk had been poisoned, and not cursed to 't they tell her on purpose?

_Amazing_, she thought, _usually the rumour of our searching Evelyn's lab should have flown throughout the Department by now._ Well, perhaps it had, but some people hadn't realised the connection.

"It wasn't a woman?" Eleanor asked, looking at her curiously.

"I can't tell you," Gwen shrugged. "I am really sorry because I think _you_ should know first. Could _you _tell me something, Eleanor?"

"Yes, of course," she replied eagerly, "I want to be of help. You know, I think the Aurors don't trust me, they don't tell me anything."

"They trust no-one." Gwen explained. "That's their job."

Eleanor nodded. "Yes, of course. I see. What do you want to know?"

"That blue mug in Archibald's office. Do you know it?"

Eleanor looked at her, obviously uncomprehending.

"Don't you know it?"

"Yes, of course, I gave it to him as a birthday present. What about it?"

"N…nothing. You already answered my question, thank you," Gwen took a sip from her energy drink, thinking that Mayfield had told the truth, after all. The mug that had held the poison was a present from Eleanor. All of a sudden, an idea shot through her head: _Perhaps the murderer, too, knew that?_

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	34. Chapter 34

_Thursday, 21 July 1994_

The Cenaculum was emptier than usual. Gwen, balancing her tray laden with grilled chicken, chips, tomato salad, and a glass of pumpkin juice, looked around, thinking that probably a lot of the DoM staff had departed into the summer holidays. Isabelle wasn't there, since she was still in France. Yet Timothy and Roberta were sitting in a far corner, side by side, engrossed in conversation.

_Whatever Isabelle may say,_ Gwen thought, _I can nearly see a sparkling between them. Isn't this a flirt?_ She looked away. Eleanor wasn't there either. But Vivi, Evelyn, and Honoria were enjoying their meal on one of the – today – yellow tables. The windows showed a beautiful palm-lined beach with deck-chairs, an azure-blue sky, and a radiant sun.

She joined the three, putting down her tray on the table. Evelyn looked at her somewhat sourly, but Vivi and Honoria greeted her with enthusiasm.

"As I was saying," the plump Evelyn said with a side-glance to Gwen, "I'm not so much into Quidditch. I'm keeping up with the coverage, of course, because I think it is important to know the results of an international event like this, but I won't go to the World Cup." She shook her long brown hair. "I've got a lot of _important_ work to do." She now positively glared at Gwen.

Gwen dug into her tomato salad. "You don't like Quidditch either, do you?" Honoria turned to Gwen and laughed. "I remember you telling me once."

Gwen blushed deep-crimson. "Erm…"

"But aren't you going to the World Cup with Roberta and Isabelle?" Vivi asked her, astonished.

"How do you know?" Gwen raised her eyebrows.

Vivi laughed, stroking her platinum-blonde shock of hair: "You know I know a lot of things." Her eyes sparkled. "So what about your interest in Quidditch."

"Oh," Gwen fidgeted, slightly embarrassed, "I'm certainly not an expert, but I'll go to see the World Cup with Isabelle. I think it'll be fun." She hastily swallowed a bite of grilled chicken.

Honoria looked at her, astounded. "You are full of surprises, Gwen. Well, I won't go to see the matches, I hope I'll be in Armenia at that time. I've always wanted to see that country."

"Armenia?" Evelyn asked. "Why's that?"

"I've always loved the music and the folkloric dances. I'd like to learn to know the country and its people." Honoria took a forkful of chicory salad. "_My _Armenia," she said dreamily.

"Oh, perhaps you'll find Bertha Jorkins, I've heard she has gone there and is missing by now." Evelyn informed Honoria, always avoiding to look at Gwen.

Vivi gave a tinkling laugh. "Not Armenia, Evelyn, Bertha's gone to Albania."

"Oh," Evelyn mumbled something under her breath, which Gwen was glad not to hear.

Honoria suppressed a grin, and Vivi continued, rather unaffected: "She's gone there on a holiday, but you're right, she should be back by now. Well, I hope she's all right. She seemed rather muddled in recent times. Perhaps she simply takes a longer time-out."

Evelyn nodded sympathetically, obviously trying to regain her composure.

"I, too, would like to have some time to relax," Gwen sighed, "but the way things are going…"

Suddenly they all looked straight at her, obviously expectantly, and with baited breath.

"Erm… I mean, well, you know, erm… it's only – with practically two jobs at the same time…"

Honoria looked at her with sympathy: "Poor bunny. I know how you…"

"_No_!"

There was a commotion at the door of the Cenaculum, and everyone looked around. Mabel Tancock was the one who had given the shout. It hadn't been a shout really, but her clear voice carried far. She had obviously collided with Eleanor, who was standing before her now, her face crimson, trying to look as if she wasn't there. She started whispering urgently, obviously trying to calm Mabel down. Mabel replied something in a very angry voice. Gwen caught herself trying to understand what Mabel was saying, even trying to read her mind, but she didn't succeed. Archie's ex-wife was too far away, and there was no eye contact.

Mabel left the Cenaculum, banging the door. Eleanor, who obviously had just entered, looked forlorn and embarrassed, as nearly the entire staff turned hastily back to their meal. Honoria got up and rushed towards the widow.

_Good idea, _thought Gwen, feeling slightly ashamed that she hadn't even thought of it. She observed under her lashes how Honoria engaged Eleanor in a conversation, leading her to the counter, whilst Eleanor looked at her gratefully, choosing a dish.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Friday, 29 July 1994_

"A bit lower perhaps," Miss Carthew ordered, craning her head back. Hugh was mounted astride an old Cleansweep broom, secateurs in hand.

Gwen looked up at Hugh, and smiled: "Good afternoon, Miss Carthew, hi, Hugh, how're you?"

He grinned and waved back. "Fine. Pruning Miss Carthew's apple tree. And you?"

She laughed merrily: "All right, I left work early today." She had been working the whole afternoon on two brains in her own office, and suddenly recognised how beautiful the day was. So she had hurried home. Miss Beresford had seen her leaving, but hadn't commented.

"Is now the time for pruning?" Gwen addressed Miss Carthew, surprised.

The old lady shook her wispy white hair rigorously: "No, certainly not. It's just an excessive water-shoot I wanted to get rid of."

Gwen looked admiringly around Miss Carthew's garden. At the end of July, a lot of roses were still in bloom (_it's magic!_). And the Hoheria, a shrub with large honey-scented white flowers, was combining wonderfully with the dark-blue giant Delphiniums.

Hugh returned to the ground, carrying a large branch, which Miss Carthew took from him.

"Thank you very much, Hugh. Let's go inside, Wookey'll make us a good cup a coffee. Or do you prefer tea, Gwendolyn?"

Gwen nodded and followed them over the carefully mown lawn inside. Wookey hurried in and laid the table. "Anyone wants a piece of fresh peach pie?"

Hugh and Gwen beamed. Wookey's pies were legendary.

Wookey returned proudly with a tray laden with a pot of aromatic coffee, a pot of steaming Darjeeling, and a large delicious-looking peach pie. She carried it with the help of a _Locomotor _spell, and set it gently onto the table. Miss Carthew served tea and coffee.

„We should plant a peach tree next year," Hugh suggested, taking a large gulp of coffee. „Then we could harvest our own peaches some day."

In Miss Carthew's garden there was an apple tree, and a cherry tree. And last autumn Gwen had planted a plum tree behind her cottage, but it was still small, and she hoped it would endure the climate. With Miss Carthew's help she had used some protective spells on it.

They discussed the idea enthusiastically while Wookey brought in a pot of whipped cream. Gwen groaned with delight, and put a good spoonful of it on her pie. _I'll feel like a mountain troll in the Magic Gym,_ she thought ruefully.

„How's Jonathan?" Miss Carthew asked suddenly. „I haven't seen him for a while. Is he going to come this week-end?"

Hugh frowned, Gwen shrugged. „I don't know, he's so busy," she answered vaguely. „But Isabelle will return next week. She's sent me a card from France by owl, look." She handed them a magic postcard showing alternating views of a beautiful harbour, a waterway with a „coche d'eau", several charming little houses, a wonderful beach, and a colourful market.

Hugh grunted appreciatively, while Miss Carthew exclaimed: „This reminds me a bit of Venice."

Half an hour later, Hugh took his leave, as he wanted to help his brother Joshua in the Dew Drop Inn. Gwen and Miss Carthew returned to the garden. Wookey had put the white garden chairs under the shady cherry tree.

Miss Carthew looked at Gwen expectantly. "Any news regarding _our _case?" she asked in a low voice.

Gwen sighed deeply: "This case is jinxed, if you ask me. Did I tell you that Jonathan found out that an apothecary recognised one of the Death Chamber staff on his photos? He sold him daisies, sopophorous beans, and ginger."

Miss Carthew listened attentively, then shook her head in reply.

"It was Crow, Suplinius Crow."

"Isn't he the one you've been working with on the victim's brain?" Miss Carthew asked, astonished.

"Yep, the same. He usually works on the process of natural death, so this isn't exactly his area of expertise, but since I had had to cooperate with him before the murder happened, they chose him because there should obviously be someone from the Death Chamber involved."

"And now you think they set a fox to keep the geese, in a manner of speaking?" Miss Carthew commented, her blue eyes twinkling.

Gwen cocked her head. "I had the opportunity to talk to Jonathan in private, which is really getting more and more difficult. We think we shouldn't be seen together in public too often, you know, there's so much gossip and the atmosphere in the DoM is getting increasingly strained."

"I see." Miss Carthew knew by now of their relationship.

"Well, Jonathan told me," Gwen lowered her voice, "that the apothecary could give the exact date and time of the purchase since he keeps accurate records of his sales. And as it happens, Crow has an alibi for this time!"

"Really? What kind of alibi?"

"He says he was working with Mayfield in his own office at that time. And Mayfield confirms his statement."

"Do you believe them?"

"Me?" Gwen pressed her lips together. "I'm thoroughly confused." She took off her glasses, searching for her wand to clean them.

"I do believe Crow," Miss Carthew stated.

Gwen nearly dropped her wand and glasses. "Why?" _He isn't exactly a very likeable or popular wizard,_ she thought.

"If he were guilty, then wouldn't his portrait have tried to escape in order to avoid being seen by the apothecary?"

"Well," Gwen said slowly. "That is true. Portraits _do_ such things…"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	35. Chapter 35

_Thursday, 4 August 1994_

"I definitely think we should conclude our common project."

Gwen whirled around, looking baffled. "What do you mean?"

Crow drew himself up, his lips curling. "Our co-operation on this brain," he pointed on the victim's brain in the tank containing the shimmering greenish liquid, "started more than three months ago. Our results, so far, have been scarce."

"But only yesterday…," Gwen protested. They had used one of those complicated spells she had found in _Rekindling Memories of the Dead, _and succeeded in extracting a series of tiny memory strands. If Mrs Beresford had been surprised at them both extinguishing the lights, drawing the curtains, lighting seven black and three red candles, burning copal resin, Gwen babbling and singing, and Crow trying to concentrate on the wand movements, she had not let it show. Instead, she had searched for her cigarillos and left the room.

Now Gwen had been in the process of disentangling the flimsy strands.

Crow waved her objection aside. "I have more urgent work to do. I'll apply for the conclusion of this co-operation."

"But we _are _making progress," Gwen insisted. "Our job is to extract memories from this brain, and that's what we have been and will be doing. No-one expects quick miracles."

"But we haven't found out anything," Crow argued. "It's useless work." He looked at the tank scornfully.

Gwen sighed. _So that's what Ten of Swords meant this morning,_ flashed through her mind.

"That's not true. We've extracted several memories. We've found out … some things which might be important for the Aurors. It's not our business to determine when our project is ended, that's for Mrs Hill to decide."

Her shot had gone home. She knew him enough by now to realise that, even though Crow looked at her unfathomably, he was furious.

"That's why I'll go and tell her my opinion, and ask her to stop this." His voice now sounded a bit higher than usual.

He turned around, and left the room, his black robes billowing behind him.

Gwen frowned, annoyed, and stomped her foot exactly the moment Jonathan entered.

"Hi there, what's the matter, love?" He hurried towards her, availing himself of the opportunity to kiss her hastily. Mrs Beresford could make an appearance any moment.

Gwen seized him by his shoulders and kissed him back, somewhat longer.

"I am angry with Crow. He wants to abandon our project."

"That'd be fine, so you can work on it alone, can't you?"

"But he wants to ask Mrs Hill to stop it altogether. Says we don't achieve any results. Which is not true." She crossed her arms in anger. "I'm not sure Agatha Hill would let me work on it alone – in here, I mean. There are rules for Unspeakles not working in their own Mystery department. And it's so unfair, we've just extracted another memory." She pointed to a vial in the cabinet on the wall.

"Now, then, I wonder why he's behaving so stubbornly," Jonathan said slowly.

Gwen looked up. "What do you mean?"

"Perhaps he has a reason to interrupt your investigations…"

"But he's got an alibi for the time of the purchase…"

"Shhhh," Jonathan put his finger on his lips, as he heard someone approaching the door. It flew open and the impressive figure of Mrs Beresford appeared in the frame, clad, as was her custom, in emerald green robes.

"Good afternoon," she announced in her deep manly voice. Jonathan hastily sat down at his desk.

Gwen, too, sat down and pondered. She looked at the vials, in which she had inserted the memory strands. Mrs Beresford and Jon were conversing in low voices.

"I'll try and research this in my own office," Gwen got up, and put the vials gingerly in her old leather bag. Mrs Beresford looked at her.

"Why?" the latter asked, frowning.

"Because I need the pensieve," Gwen explained with a sigh. "And as far as I know Ademarus needs it, too. It'll be easier to work in the Brain Room – since Mr Crow is absent at the moment. I'll report any new findings to you as soon as possible."

And with that, she left the chilly office, leaving Jonathan staring at her, with his mouth slightly open, and Mrs Beresford frowning even deeper than before. She knew that she was setting a precedent, it being quasi illegal to take insights and products from one Room to another. _I'm doing cross-functional work after all, _she thought defiantly, but was glad when she had left the Death Chamber without Mrs Beresford ordering her to return.

~ooOOoo~

Carrying her leather bag under her arms, Gwen went to the Smoking Room on Level Four. Before she started to analyse the strands she needed a well-deserved cigarette break.

_I don't care for Crow wanting to end our cooperation,_ she thought stubbornly, knowing at the same time that it wasn't true. Even though she didn't like the chilly office, she was by now curious to find out more about Archibald and who his murderer was, and she hoped to contribute her own share to the murder enquiry.

While she entered the Smoking Room, which was nearly empty at this time of day, she pondered why Crowwanted to quit their cooperation.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bale," someone said to her.

She looked up. She hadn't noticed Alex Campbell. The white-bearded slender Death Chamber wizard was sitting on a wooden stool, smoking a pipe.

He beckoned her to join him, so she sat down at his side, extracting a packet of cigarettes. Alex Campbell lighted her cigarette with a flick of his wand.

„How are you doing?" he asked her politely. „We haven't had many opportunities to talk, have we? I do hope you feel fine in our Chamber. Unfortunately I'm not allowed to enter the ... office you're working in, otherwise I'd have looked after you more frequently."

An elf approached, and Gwen ordered an espresso. Alex Campbell took a sip of coffee, and continued smoking his pipe.

„That's very considerate of you, thanks, Mr Campbell," Gwen smiled. She knew by now that Alex Campbell occupied a superior position in the Death Chamber. „I'm all right. The only thing I still have to get used to is the chill," she tried to sound cheery.

He let out a melodious laughter and puffed at his pipe. „Do you know for how long you're going to work in our midst?"

Gwen looked at him, musing, and dragging at her cigarette. „No, Mr Campbell, I really can't say."

"That's all right," he answered hastily, and lowered his voice. "I'm just worried, and hope that you'll soon find out who … killed our colleague." His expression clouded.

She tried to change the subject: „May I ask you a question?"

He looked at her, eyes twinkling, and nodded.

"How long have you been working in the Chamber?"

He raised his brows in surprise. The service elf brought Gwen's espresso and a mineral water.

„Oh, a good many decades by now," he answered complacently.

„Do you know perhaps a Miss Carthew?" Gwen went on. She had forgotten to ask Miss Carthew whether she knew Campbell. After all it seemed quite possible, even though she was perhaps a bit older than him.

He stroke his short beard, and continued puffing at his pipe. „Well, the name sounds familiar. How does she look? And where should I know her from?"

„She used to work in the DoM, but retired some years ago," Gwen now wondered whether it was really a good idea to reveal her connection to Miss Carthew.

„Is she a very clever lady with short hair?"

„Yes, that's her," Gwen smiled and took a sip of espresso.

„Yes, I remember her. But she worked in a different section of the DoM – let me think... No, I don't remember where. Do you know?"

Gwen shook her head. Miss Carthew had worked in several DoM sections, but Gwen didn't want to go into too much detail. „No, I don't know." He certainly would believe her. Unspeakables weren't allowed to talk too much about their work.

„It's a small world," Campell remarked, pulling hard at his pipe. „How come you know her?"

„She's my neighbour," Gwen suddenly felt uneasy. Perhaps she shouldn't have mentioned Miss Carthew at all. She finished her espresso and mineral water, stubbed out her cigarette and grabbed her bag.

„I must return to work," she proffered him her hand. „Nice to have met you in here, Mr Campbell."

He nodded to her with a friendly smile.

~ooOOoo~

After pushing a large stack of parchments and memos aside to make room on her desk, she put the vials with the memories in a neat row.

As Isabelle was still on leave, the office provided the peace and quiet which she now needed. She listened intently. No noise from outside entered her office, it was really sound-proof.

She added the usual five drops of pale pink liquid to the silvery mist inside the pensieve, which she had obtained from Bob, who had been really glad that, this time, she was going to stay with it in the Brain Room instead of taking it with her to the Death Chamber. Gwen opened one of the vials, and extracted the memory strand inside it with the help of her wand. She watched the whirling mists for some seconds, then dived into the pensieve.

* * *

_Archibald was standing near the dais, looking at the ancient stone archway._

„_Archibald." Alex Campbell was sitting behind him on the lowest stone bench, obviously not minding or perhaps not even feeling the cold „I know that something's wrong. Why don't you tell me? We've known each other for years."_

_Archibald turned around and looked at him, his face a picture of agony and despair. The black veil fluttered eerily, some voices could be heard._

„_It's not what you think," he started. _

* * *

Then the memory started to blur; Gwen cursed under her breath and left the pensieve. Grumbling she extracted the strand from the pensieve; repeated the whole procedure to insert the next memory, which was awfully tiny.

* * *

_Archibald shut the door to his office behind himself and his wife. Jacobus Mayfield was working at his desk. Eleanor started to make tea, while Archie put three mugs on the desk. _Gwen gave a little start because one was the light-blue mug she already knew.

„_Darjeeling, love?" Eleanor asked. Archibald nodded, stroking her golden hair. "And you, Mr Mayfield?"_

* * *

Again the scene began fading away, and Gwen, now nearly desperate, went up again. _Ten of Swords is really a hopeless outlook,_ she thought grimly, remembering anew her today's Tarot card.

Once more she extracted a memory, this one seemed to be a bit longer.

* * *

_Archibald and Jacobus Mayfield were standing side by side at a desk in their office, pointing their wands at a beautiful golden goblet. Suddenly a loud knock sounded on the office door._

_They looked at each other questioningly. „Who could that be?" Mayfield hissed. Archibald just shrugged. They laid their wands aside, and turned around, obviously trying to conceal the object in question. _

„_Enter!" Mayfield called, carefully placing himself between the goblet and the intruder._

_The door opened and in came Vivi Gregorius, her platinum blonde spiky shock of hair and bright red robes completely out of place in the gloomy office._

* * *

Gwen held her breath while the memory faded again.

Frowning she got up again, looking around in her own office for something to drink. She decided to make a tea before continuing to look at the other memories. At this moment she heard a knock on her door.

She was tempted to get up and put herself in front of the vials to conceal them just like Archibald and Mayfield had done with the goblet, but there were five of them, _and _the pensieve, so it was impossible to do so.

„Who's there?" she asked, moving over to the door, opening it ajar. It was Honoria, today clad in eggplant-coloured flowing robes, and adorned with a single beautiful tourmaline pendant on her chest.

„Hi Gwen!" she beamed at her. „Bob told me you were in here. There's a memo for you."

Gwen took the violet-coloured memo Honoria handed her. „Thanks, Hon." She gave her an apologetic smile, and shut the door again. She leant against the door, took a deep breath and opened the memo:

‚_Dear Gwen, please come to my office as soon as you can. Thanks in advance, Agatha Hill.'_

~ooOOoo~


	36. Chapter 36

"And did you look at the other two memories or did you answer Mrs Hill's summons immediately?"

Miss Carthew stirred her tea daintily, not looking at Gwen, who had just come home, fed her cat Napoleon, and had a look at her own small, somewhat unkempt garden, when Miss Carthew had invited her for a cup of tea.

Gwen grinned and sipped her Earl Grey tea. _Nothing gets past you, _she thought.

Before rushing to her boss's office, she had, of course, had a look at the other memories, in case they contained important information.

„I looked at them first, one was another memory of Eleanor, again a very short one, where Archibald and she enter the Circular Room, say good-bye to each other, and separate to get to their respective workplaces. The other one was _very _blurred, but I think I am able to make out Macnair! I am going to analyse the memories more thoroughly tomorrow first thing."

Miss Carthew nodded.

They were sitting under the cherry-tree. Gwen had an appointment with Isabelle, who had returned from her holidays in France, later that evening.

"Agatha Hill was very pleased to hear of those five memories," Gwen continued. "Crow sneered the whole while, but there is no denying the fact that, at least technically speaking, we _are _making progress. Ademarus, too, was there, even though I don't know why she had summoned him. He was surprised when he learnt how I had extracted the last five memories, I think he prefers the more sober modern wand-waving magic. Agatha Hill praised our ‚excellent work', and asked Crow for his patience. She said he was, after all, free to divide his time flexibly, and work at _his _project whenever he wanted to – whatever she meant by that."

„It's really strange that Suplinius Crow wants to end your cooperation," Miss Carthew frowned. „Why is he behaving like this? Doesn't he realise that this makes him even more suspicious?"

They sipped their tea companionably.

„And what do _you _think about the memories?"

Miss Carthew put her cup on the table. „We learn that Alex Campbell might know something about a problem Archibald had, which is _very_ interesting."

„I suppose they are going to interrogate him about that memory. By the way, do you know Alex Campbell?" Gwen asked suddenly. „_He_ seems to know you..."

To her utter surprise Miss Carthew blushed like one her pale pink roses.

„I do remember him; an elegant, well-read and highly intelligent wizard." She gave a tiny cough. "I worked in the Love ante-room at that time." For some unknown reason she blushed deeper, now resembling her Damascene roses. „I think he's even somehow related to the Dumbledore family."

Gwen nearly burst with curiosity, but realised that her neighbour wouldn't tell her anymore right now.

„What else do we learn?"

„We learn that Vivi Gregorius might know or suspect something about Archibald's and Mayfield's work with horcruxes..."

Gwen raised her hands: „I wouldn't go as far as that. I think she really didn't see the goblet the two were hiding behind their backs, and even if she had, we don't know whether she would have realised what it was," she protested. „_If _this goblet was indeed a horcrux, that is," she added as an afterthought.

„Very good, Gwen, I'm just weighing the possibilities. But Vivi might know _something_. She sees a lot and seems to be everywhere, after all. Then, we learn that Eleanor made tea for her husband, and his colleague..." – Gwen giggled and sipped at her tea – „which might be important," Miss Carthew continued, lifting her index finger, „and that they went together to work until getting into the Circular Room, which we already know. And last but not least, we have another pointer to Walden Macnair."

Gwen finished her cup, set it down, and got up with a sigh. "Thanks for the tea, Miss Carthew, it was really excellent. I have to get going now, Isabelle invited me to a Mediterranean dinner, and I still have to change."

"Ah, she is back from her holiday in France, isn't she?"

Miss Carthew got up with her and saw her to the door. „I'm going to ponder this new information, Gwen," she smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. „Could you try and figure out what Campbell knew about Archibald Dusk?"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Monday, 8 August 1994_

_I suppose it's one of those days,_ Gwen grumbled inwardly, feeling a hot surge of anger. This morning she had not been able to find her floo powder and she had been already late. The small wooden box had been empty, and she had been one hundred percent sure she had stored some reserves _somewhere. _Then she had rapidly drawn a Tarot card for the day, and it had been the Tower.

In the early morning she had received a bouquet of flaming red roses delivered by owl. First she had thought they were from Jonathan, but then had noticed that the sender was Norma. She had felt an urge to throw the flowers over the cliffs, but had been unable to bring herself to do so as they were very beautiful and smelled lovely.

Sighing she had put them in a vase, but managed to discard the accompanying letter without reading it. _8 August, I suppose that was the day we met, _she had remembered resignedly.

And now, after apparating into the London rain, and emerging, sopping wet, from the Visitors' entrance – the phone booth lift – amidst the crowd of Ministry wizards and witches, who were running in all directions, she had bumped into Macnair of all people.

He grinned at her, and helped her picking up her leather bag, which had slid down her shoulder. Gwen nearly turned into a pillar of salt.

„Hi, how are you? You are a friend of Manisha's, aren't you?"

Gwen murmured a thank-you, nodded, and wanted to hurry away, but he didn't give in.

„Fancy a smoke with me after lunch one of these days?"

"Erm… I don't think so," she stammered, "I mean I've got a lot of work to do."

"Ah," he grinned even more broadly, his black moustache quivering, "the _investigation._" He rolled the word on his tongue.

Gwen frowned. "You know that I…?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"I have eyes and ears. And I've been interrogated, as you possibly know." He had lowered his voice.

Then he came very close to Gwen, who got a whiff of his stale breath and averted her face.

"_I _didn't murder Dusk," he whispered in her ear.

"That's not for me to judge," Gwen hurried away, and heard him laughing behind her.

"See you in the Smoking Room."

_What a horrid wizard, _Gwen thought. She used the lift to get down to the Department of Mysteries. When she opened the door to the Circular Room ("_Commitment and dedication are key to solving any mystery")_, she was still shaken up by that nasty encounter. She had just used the Caverotari spell and tool, and was rummaging inside her leather bag, when she saw two other people, standing next to one of the black doors with the blue inscriptions.

"Hi Gwen," Timothy smiled at her. Roberta seemed somewhat flustered, and Gwen frowned.

_Have they just been holding hands or not? Am I imagining things? _

The two were standing apart from each other, like colleagues engrossed in a perfectly harmless conversation.

"Hi Timothy, hi Roberta, how're things going?"

"Quite all right," Timothy beamed, "my spirits have been very spirited lately."

_Or am I just… a suspicious and jealous witch?, _Gwen thought.

Roberta was chewing one of her sparkling gums, and remarked: "We should meet one of these days – I mean you, Isabelle, and me, you know, to plan our trip to the Quidditch World cup."

"You're right. I'll tell Isabelle. Manisha is going, too, shouldn't we include her?"

"Why not. Timothy here is going too."

Timothy waved his hands: "Yes, but I'm going with my wife and children, so I think we'll be assigned a different tent place, and, anyhow, probably keep to ourselves. But we can, of course, …"

Precisely at this moment Vivi burst into the Circular Room with a loud cry, soaking wet, her claret-coloured robes dripping with a green liquid.

"What's the matter?" Gwen and Roberta exclaimed.

"The tank has exploded," Vivi panted, "the big brain tank, I mean. I'm going to call Magical Maintenance!"

She pointed her wand at a tiny trap-door on the bottom of the Circular room and murmured a spell. It opened and gave way to a red button, which she pushed.

"Merlin's beard," Gwen gasped, "I'll go and see what's happened inside. Who's in there?"

"I'll come with you," Timothy announced.

"Me, too," Roberta echoed.

"I'll stay here to await MM, and accompany them inside," Vivi explained.

The others nodded, as they knew that the Magical Maintenance staff, like any other non-Unspeakables (or just, "Speakables" as they called them), were not able to enter the Department of Mysteries.

"Are you all right, Vivi?" Gwen asked her, her hand already on the handle, and the platinum blonde witch, who seemed to be a bit under shock, nodded.

Gwen opened the door cautiously.

Inside pandemonium reigned. Firmin and Honoria were standing in one corner, Firmin was injured, a large gash was showing on his cheek. Honoria was trying to heal it with her wand, talking soothingly to her colleague. The green liquid stood up to their ankles.

Pieces of broken glass were scattered all over the place, and brains were floating in the green liquid, their tentacles reaching out aggressively. Ademarus and Isabelle were running about, trying to catch them with picker arms and putting them into small tanks. A strange smell wafted over the place.

"Let's help them catching the brains," Gwen suggested to Roberta, and Timothy.

Tim nodded: "All right, we'll follow you. Where do we get those picker arms?"

Gwen beckoned them to follow her. She went straight to Bob's office, wondering where the tank manager was. They all waded through the green solution, which had become somewhat gelatinous.

"Ugh," Roberta pulled a face, as she looked down at her soggy robes, but surged forward valiantly.

Gwen shook the handle of Bob's office door, but it was closed. _Where is he now?, _she thought desperately. She tried _Alohomora, _but it didn't work on the office door. She hurried to her own office, the others in tow. There were two small tanks, and four picker-arms, which she grabbed and handed to the others.

"Better than nothing!"

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the five vials with the memories standing on her desk. They all hurried outside. Timothy was somewhat clumsy in handling the arms, and the brains, while Roberta was surprisingly deft.

"Try to put two brains into one tank," Isabelle shouted from her corner of the room. "But _not_ Claudine and Ernie, they can't stand each other."

Timothy looked a bit helpless: „Which one's Claudine?"

Isabelle frantically pointed at one of the floating brains.

„Where's Bob?" Gwen asked in the direction of Ademarus and Isabelle, while trying at the same time to get hold of Ernie, and keeping an eye on Timothy and Roberta, somewhat worried about them being attacked by a brain.

„Don't know," Ademarus answered, nearly tripping on the slippery floor. „I've sent him an urgent memo, though."

„Argh!" Roberta suddenly cried, as a brain wrapped its tentacles around her wrist.

Within seconds Gwen was at her side, performing the nonverbal Dissertio and Dissuo spells, closing down her mind.

The door to the Brain Room suddenly opened, and Vivi appeard, followed by a small ferrety wizard in navy robes.

He looked around helplessly, and kept standing there as if stunned.

"Who are you?" Ademarus shouted, not at all his usual self-controlled self.

"I'm Reginald Cattermole from Magical Maintenance. You sent us an Emergency call."

"I pushed the button," Vivi explained, turning to Ademarus. "I had hoped they would send some more helpers…"

"Could you please help us with this mess?" Isabelle waved her hands at the green solution and all the glass shards. "Remove the green solution and the glass?"

„You wouldn't be able to put the glass tank together again?" Gwen panted, rather hopelessly, and Cattermole shook his head slowly.

„I don't think so, but I'll do what I can," he answered in a small voice, extracting his wand, and gazing around vaguely.


	37. Chapter 37

Gwendolyn took off her glasses, and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"What a day," she sighed.

She took off her rock crystal pendant. "Must clean that, I guess," she mumbled. Honoria had explained that gems had to be cleaned with clear water once in a while to remove unwanted energies. Then they had to be laid into the moonlight to recharge them. As her rock crystal was still smeared with green tank solution, it needed cleaning urgently.

Jonathan put a pot of steaming wonton soup on the table in front of her, and she beamed at him happily.

"Thank you so much! This smells lovely! I didn't know you were such a good cook."

"Well, not me," he grinned sheepishly. "But Mr Miraculous. It's one of "Mr Miraculous' Magical 1-Minute Meals", but I thought you'd like it – something hot and soothing to the stomach."

Wookey bustled into the kitchen, frowning at the soup, and put a bread basket beside the soup bowl.

It was very late and darkness had already fallen. Gwen savoured the hot soup, and Jonathan helped himself to a slice of bread. Wookey asked whether they needed anything else, and they shook their heads. Wookey withdrew.

"Did anyone find out what caused the explosion?"

"No," Gwen replied gloomily. "Must have been some magic going awry. Things like this _do _happen they say."

"Some magic. Well. Magic done by whom?"

"I don't know. And I don't want to make any accusations."

"Has the tank exploded before?"

"Erm… no, at least not during my time at the Ministry. But Isabelle told me that there had been bad accidents before."

Jonathan munched on his bread.

"Did Bob finally turn up in the Brain Room?"

"Yes, of course, and he was horrified when he saw the wreckage of "his" tank. Several other colleagues came to the Brain Room, too, and helped spontaneously. Which was lucky, since this Cattermole guy from Magical Maintenance wasn't exactly a great help. Eleanor and Manisha joined us, and Manisha was surprisingly good at catching our brains. Alex Campbell from the Death Chamber helped Bob to retrieve some of the green liquid. Most of it, however, is lost now. Vivi said she'll help us to provide a new tank. But at least all the brains are sound and safe, which is the most important thing."

She dipped some bread into the hot soup. "By the way," she said slowly, "what do you think about Alex Campbell?"

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Did you interview him? I mean, he is one of the leaders in the Death Chamber, and I've just sent you and Mrs Beresford a report about a memory, where he talks to Archibald, asking him whether something was wrong, and emphasising that he'd known him for years."

Now it was Jon's turn to heave a sigh. "Yes, of course, we've talked to him. At first he didn't want to tell us anything at all," he frowned at Gwen, "like all of you."

Gwen took another spoonful of soup and said nothing.

"At a later stage he told us that he had been wondering whether Archibald was in any trouble, but hadn't been able to get anything specific out of him. Archie had only admitted that he was feeling a bit under the weather. Too much work or something like this. Campbell told us that he assumed it had to do with Archibald's and Mayfield's work project, which was, by the by, the first one Campbell wasn't privy to."

„Now that's interesting, isn't it?"

„Yep."

„And who assigned them the project?"

Jonathan shrugged: „Everyone is very tight-lipped regarding this question."

_It must have been Agatha Hill herself,_ Gwen thought, _I can't imagine Archibald and Mayfield working on this without her approval. Of course she wouldn't tell the Aurors what illegal subjects we're working on... _Out of habit, she occluded her brain, while thinking of _certain _brains, ghosts, and several other projects and things she had glimpsed or heard of in the Department of Mysteries. Then again she couldn't fathom why Agatha Hill was interested in horcruxes.

„And did Mayfield admit to you that they had been working on horcruxes?"

Jonathan swallowed the last bite of bread with a sip of butterbeer.

„No, of course not, even though he stared at us like a bowtruckle caught in a wand light."

Gwen listened intently, while she finished her soup.

"Regarding that other memory we also asked him about Eleanor making tea for them both, and Mayfield said that she often prepared their tea in the afternoon."

Gwen nodded. She remembered Eleanor passing from the Planet Room through the Brain Room to the Death Chamber once in a while. Gwen had finished her meal, and Wookey cleared the table before Jonathan could lift a finger. The elf hummed happily, and started doing the dishes.

"You know what," Jon said finally, "don't let's talk about that business anymore now. I'll put some logs in the fireplace, and you put some nice music. How about that?"

"Brilliant. And I'll open that bottle of elderflower wine Miss Carthew gave me the other day. What do you say?"

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Tuesday, 16 August 1994_

"Did you know that she lives in such a … palace?" Gwen whispered in amazement.

"It's not a palace," Isabelle whispered back. Roberta had just left the impressive dining room, with the etched glass windows, walls of brocaded velvet, and floor of wool Axeminster carpeting.

"It's a Victorian mansion. And no, I didn't know either. It's lovely." She eyed the hanging tapestries and the ornate brass chandelier appreciatively.

"Nor me," Manisha smiled, stroking the edge of an exquisite porcelain plate.

"Well," Gwen hastened to remark, "she doesn't put on airs about it. I mean, she never dresses like a rich lady, she always wears rather casual or even sportive clothes."

"_Ouais, t'as raison, _she never let show that she is rich," Isabelle nodded.

"But perhaps she isn't," Gwen wondered, "I mean it might be just the house. She could have inherited it, and…"

Manisha looked at her curiously.

The door opened and Roberta reappeared.

"Here there are," she held the special Quidditch World Cup Portkey licence forms out to Gwen and Isabelle, and they each took one.

"Oh, great!" Isabelle beamed at her. "You've thought of everything!"

Rob looked rather pleased with herself, but waved a dismissive hand.

"Has everyone got a tent?" she asked.

"I've got one", Gwen said.

"I've got a tent that would accommodate all of us," Isabelle offered. "_Eh bien, _wouldn't it be fun to live all the four together?"

Gwen was enthusiastic about the idea, while Manisha shook her head.

"I'll have to use my own tent", Manisha said, "sorry, but I got my ticket earlier than you and therefore will be assigned a different location than you."

"Ah, you're right," Roberta nodded, "but we could try and ask the organisers…."

"No, please, don't bother, I'd rather sleep alone," Manisha replied, somewhat awkwardly.

The others looked disappointed. "That's quite all right," Isabelle murmured.

"I'd love to share a tent with you all," Gwen beamed. Manisha eyed her again curiously, which she noticed. "It would be a bit like being at Hogwarts again, wouldn't it?" she explained. "But I understand if someone wants to be alone." She wondered why Manisha had joined them at all this evening if she wanted to keep to herself.

„We _could _try to arrange to camp side by side," Manisha hastened to add. „I mean, I do, of course, appreciate your company, the only thing is that I need to _sleep_ in my own four walls, so to speak."

Now Gwen eyed Manisha curiously. _Well, perhaps she only doesn't want us to hear her snoring or see her wearing hair curlers._

Roberta called the house-elf with a spell from her wand, and the elf entered.

"Anyone else some more wine?" she asked. Isabelle nodded and the elf hurried forward to pour out some Cabernet Sauvignon for her.

"You can bring in the pudding in about a quarter of an hour," Roberta instructed the house-elf. "Thank you, Burky."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Monday, 22 August 1994, Quidditch World Cup_

"Here you are," Roberta handed Gwen two big bottles filled with water she had fetched from a tap nearby. Gwen chuckled when she noticed that Rob had used an unobtrusive hovering charm to carry them.

She and Manisha had managed to light a fire without magic, while Isabelle had resigned and put up the big tent with a silent _Erecto _spell. Her nine-year-old son Nicolas was stirring the fire excitedly, his blond curls bobbing in all directions.

"We are really lucky to be here on holiday," Gwen remarked, looking around at all the wizarding folk settling down on the campsite, where the Quidditch World Cup visitors had put up their tents. A number of Ministry people were busily walking around trying to monitor the signs of salient magic. They looked rather strained.

Manisha, whose tent they had erected beside their own, rummaged in her bags and extracted a package full of sausages. Isabelle handed her the sticks.

"Not yet, we have to wait until the fire burns down a bit," Manisha explained and laid the sausages on a big plate, which she had put on a camping table.

"I know," Isabelle smiled, "I just want to save them from Nic."

"On my way to the tap I met Broderick Bode from the Hall of Prophecies and James Croaker from your Room," Roberta told Gwen, while trying to wash the mache salad with the water she had brought – without magic.

"Ah, really! I'd liked to see James, haven't seen him in the Brain Room for months now. He's taken a _very _long holiday. Is he on duty?"

"Yep, that's what he told me. And he says it's getting more and more difficult to control all the wizarding folk arriving from all over the world. Everyone is so excited."

"Do you want me to help you with the salad?"

"I've brought tomatoes, too. Look here," Roberta produced a bag full of big red tomatoes. "You could wash and cut them, if you like."

Suddenly they heard a loud bang nearby, and pink smoke erupted from a tent with a wind vane. Nicolas looked startled, but soon continued to stir the fire. He asked his mother a question in French. A Ministry official was running to the tent from which the smoke emanated, waving his arms in exasperation.

"What did Nicolas say?" Gwen asked, dipping the tomatoes into a bowl filled with water.

"He wants to put the sausages on the sticks", Isabelle laughed. "Come here, _mon grand_, I'll show you how it works, and then you can help me."

When the wood had nearly burnt down to hot embers, they held the sticks above them. Roberta served the salad, and Nicolas was thrilled and wanted to try the sausages at once.

~ooOOoo~


	38. Chapter 38

Time flew, and Gwen enjoyed her sausage, looking at all the hustle and bustle, while chatting with the other witches. Ludo Bagman passed, clad in striped Quidditch robes of yellow and black, with a picture of a wasp on his chest. Roberta exchanged some words with him, laughing merrily. They even huddled together for some minutes, whispering excitedly while Bagman whipped out a notebook and a quill. Gwen wrinkled her brow and lit a cigarette.

Manisha was sitting next to Gwen, smoking a cigarette, too. "Nice moonstone necklace you're wearing," she commented. "Is it new?"

Gwen blushed. Jonathan had given her the necklace before they had parted, but she didn't want to admit the fact to Manisha. He had been ordered to stay at the Department of Mysteries and continue investigating the murder case (and having an eye on Crow and Macnair, as he had told her).

"Erm, quite so…"

Manisha gave her a curious look, then looked at Roberta who said good-bye to Ludo Bagman, then back to Gwen again. She leaned forward, and touched one of the moonstones.

"Really pretty," she said softly, "do you know a lot about gemmology?" She looked up at Gwen, her dark eyes glittering under her long lashes.

"No, not very much, but Honoria has told me something about it," Gwen smiled, "she kind of provides me counsel once in a while. She uses gems for healing purposes. Isabelle's an expert, too, and I've also seen Eleanor wearing different gems."

"A lot of witches are in it," Manisha nodded, "there seems to be something in it."

"Oh, I am sure, there is," Gwen replied eagerly, taking a pull on her cigarette.

"Roberta doesn't believe in gems, I think," Manisha said more loudly, winking at Roberta.

"No, I don't," Roberta answered, laughing merrily, "Well, not for me, at last," she added hastily, "I do, of course, respect those who do. After all, gemmology seems to have to do with energies, the transmission of crystal energies, that is…" She fumbled at her green rosette. Then she suddenly frowned as if she were thinking of something that disconcerted her.

"So we are all Ireland fans, today, aren't we," Gwen tried to change topic, pointing at her own green rosette.

Manisha took the hint and started talking about the Irish Quidditch team.

Isabelle went with a saleswizard to buy a figure of Aidan Lynch, the Irish Seeker, and a pair of _Omnioculars _for her son, and a green hat for herself. Nicolas was excited.

And then, finally, a loud gong could be heard somewhere beyond the woods.

"That's the start signal!" Roberta's grey eyes were sparkling. Manisha jumped up from her camping seat. Nicolas nearly tripped over a tent peg.

They joined the crowd who followed the trail into the wood, which was illuminated by green and red lanterns hanging in the trees. _Looks lovely_, Gwen thought.

Suddenly Isabelle squealed with delight and was kissed on both cheeks by a huge witch with olive skin and dark eyes. The gigantic witch was dressed from top to toe in black satin, and wore opal jewellery. The delicate Isabelle, clad in her usual beige-coloured robes, looked like a fairy at her side. They were talking together in French.

"Gwen," Isabelle turned around, beaming with delight, "meet my former _directrice_, Madame Maxime, from _L'Académie de Magie Beauxbâtons_._ Madame, _this is my Ministry colleague, Gwendolyn Bale."

On and on they went through the wood together, Isabelle was talking to Madame Maxime, occasionally translating for Gwen, who was trying to avoid tripping over tree roots and finding her way through the dusky forest. _Lumos,_ she mumbled and the tip of her wand lit up. _Never mind the secrecy now, _she thought.

Roberta, who had led their group, suddenly stopped and pointed to the enormous gold walls surrounding the long oval Quidditch pitch. "Look, Gwen!" she glowed, "marvellous, isn't it?"

Gwen had to admit that it looked wonderful and impressive, and she beamed back at Roberta, just nodding, and panting for breath.

After arriving at the huge stadium, which emanated a soft golden glow of light, they all climbed the purple-carpeted stairs to get to their boxes somewhere at middle height. On a gigantic blackboard, advertising messages for magical products and services were flaring up.

The air was filled with merriment and resounded with noise and laughter. Everyone was excited, the atmosphere was overwhelming and amazing, so that even Gwen, who had still no clue of Quidditch, got infected by it. On their way they had seen Timothy Oakden, his wife and two children from a far distance, he had waved at them enthusiastically.

"Here we are," Roberta announced when they finally reached their box. Manisha had to climb some more steps to get to a different box, since she had bought her ticket earlier than the others. She looked a bit sad, and said: "We'll discuss the match afterwards! I'm looking forward to it!"

She had told them that she was going to meet Ali Bashir, an old friend of hers, who sold flying carpets, in her box.

Roberta, Isabelle, and Gwen sat down on the plushy seats, but Nicolas simply couldn't remain seated. He was trying out the new _Omnioculars _Isabelle had bought him and reported his mum in rapid French on his recent discoveries.

Gwen was just admiring the three 50 feet high goal hoops at either end of the pitch with their golden goalposts, when Ludo Bagman cast a _Sonorus _spell and welcomed the spectators.

And then the mascots of the Bulgarian Quidditch team appeared.

Later Gwen could only remember how Roberta and Isabelle had slapped her, dragging her back from the railing she had wanted to climb over, Isabelle laughing good-naturedly, and Roberta half startled, half worried.

"Have you never seen a Veela before?" Isabelle smiled.

Gwen, still slightly dazed, shook her head. The crowd was calling angrily for the Veela to come back. Gwen had half a mind to join them, but Roberta held her wrists in a firm grip.

"But you've heard of them?" Isabelle continued, helping Roberta to get Gwen seated.

"Yes, of course," she mumbled, "but I didn't know that they were so beautiful, so…"

"All right, _ça suffit_," Isabelle hastily stopped her, throwing a side glance at Roberta, whom she didn't know well enough to trust her with revelations about Gwen's preferences.

The Irish Leprechauns were a welcome change of topic. Nicolas was thrilled, and then the Quidditch match finally started. Isabelle's son pointed at the seekers, the Bulgarian Victor Krum, and the Irish Aidan Lynch. "He, too, wants to be a seeker one day," Isabelle explained.

The game was really exciting, even Gwen was impressed by Krum's Wronki feint, which Roberta – among many other moves – pointed out to her.

They all were happy when Ireland beat Bulgaria 170 to 160, despite Krum getting the snitch, and they left the stadium in high spirits to go celebrating.

~ooOOoo~

It was late at night, and the air was soft and balmy. Gwen and Manisha were sitting at a small fire Gwen had built, smoking their cigarettes. Isabelle and Nicolas were already sleeping in their tent, while Roberta was still out on the campsite, talking to some friends she had met.

"That was an exciting game," Gwen mused.

"Excellent game," Manisha smiled, "two brilliant teams, a lot of wonderful moves, a great atmosphere,…"

Gwen nodded. "That's right. You know a lot about Quidditch, don't you?"

"Yep, played it myself when I was at school. I was Keeper." She closed her eyes, obviously reminiscing.

For some minutes they just stared into the fire, engrossed in their own thoughts, and smoking their cigarettes.

"May I ask you a question, my dear?" Manisha suddenly asked.

"Yes, of course."

"A personal question, I mean."

Gwen looked at her curiously. "Well – why not. If I can decline to answer it."

"Of course you can," Manisha fidgeted on her camping chair. "I wanted to ask whether you are… do you… I mean what do you think about Roberta?"

Gwen looked taken aback. Had she been so obvious? She had thought Manisha would ask her about Jonathan, or even about the murder case. How could she possibly know about her feelings towards Rob? _That is bad,_ Gwen thought, _I don't want anyone at work to know – apart from Isabelle._

"I… wouldn't want to talk about her, when she isn't here with us. I think she's very nice, and certainly a competent colleague. I…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't want…," Manisha blushed. "I certainly didn't want to talk ill of her. I had the impression that you trust me, when you spoke to me in the lift the other day. I … I'm just worried about you."

Gwen frowned. "Worried? About me? Why?"

"About you and Roberta." Manisha looked straight at her without blinking.

"What do you mean?"

Manisha threw her cigarette butt into the fire, and took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry," she whispered, "I shouldn't have meddled. I just want to say that if … if someone … _anyone _were fancying Roberta, I would recommend them to steer clear of her, since she is already in love..."

Gwen tried to keep her face straight. She looked again into Manisha's eyes, and all of a sudden something strange happened. She felt like falling through Manisha's pupils. It was like sliding down on a chute, which turned into a dark tunnel. And at the end of it she saw a picture of Roberta and Timothy, standing side by side in front of the Arch. Timothy had his arm around Roberta and both were staring at something, which Gwen recognised at once. It was Archibald's body, lying face-down on the dais.

Manisha blinked. Gwen looked away, shocked.

"What was...?" Manisha squinted heavily.

Before Gwen could say anything, they heard loud voices and screaming on the campsite.

Roberta came running towards them.

Gwen got up abruptly. "What's the matter?" She threw her cigarette into the fire.

"Death Eaters! We need help! There are Death Eaters harrassing the Muggle campsite manager and his family," Roberta panted. "Hurry up, I'll wake Isabelle, this is bad…"

Isabelle was already stucking her head out of the tent. "_Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?_" she murmured sleepily.

A green light was seen in the distance

„Take Nicolas and get him to the woods," Roberta replied. „Would you come and help me?" she addressed Manisha and Gwen. „Ministry wizards are trying to help the Muggles, we must support them."

Suddenly a loud bang could be heard, people were shouting.

„We're coming," Gwen made sure she had her wand. Isabelle had put a jacket on her son. He was looking bleary-eyed and tousled. She took him by the hand, and looked at Gwen. „I'm off," she said hastily and headed towards the woods.

„Death Eaters?" Manisha mumbled, and followed them.

~ooOOoo~

Gwen, Roberta, and Manisha tried to get closer to the masked wizards. The sight of the four Muggles floating up in the air was eerie. Gwen was getting furious, and Manisha looked grim. Rob shoved some wizards aside, and Gwen admired her deft way of proceeding. They recognised other Ministry people trying to get through to the Death Eaters. People around were shouting, some whistled and laughed, others looked worried.

"Can't do anything from here," Gwen heard James Croaker's voice. She looked around and saw him talking to a red-haired Ministry wizard. "I don't want them to fall down if I interrupt their Levitating spells."

Gwen waved to James. "Can we help you?" she shouted. James looked up. "Hi Gwen! Good to see you. Great, come on." He beckoned them nearer. "We're trying to get nearer. It seems that only some of the Death Eaters are holding the family up in the air. The rest of them is protecting them against – us."

Suddenly the Muggle woman in the air was turned upside down. Gwen gasped. People laughed and pointed at her underwear. More and more people joined the crowd. Manisha was pushing two rather drunken wizards away and tried to stay close to Gwen and Roberta.

Now Gwen was near enough to get a glimpse of the masked wizards, she strained her eyes, but it was too dark to recognise anyone. James Croaker and the red-haired wizard got even closer than her, and she heard James shout: "Let them down! This is a Ministry action. Let them down immediately!"

Whether they pretended not to hear or really didn't catch his words Gwen couldn't tell. Roberta was trying to get close to one of the wizards who was fending another Ministry colleague from his cronies. Gwen caught sight of a gap at Rob's side and shoved through.

One of the Death Eaters turned around, looking at the crowd before him. _This means he is not one of those who hold the Muggles up in the air. _Gwen pressed ahead further and got eye-contact through his mask. Pitch-black eyes. _Got you! _she thought. She knew she could do this. Her eyes locked into his, boring deeper and deeper, her whole mind focussed on the task at hand. She took a deep breath. Now he couldn't cast her off anymore and stared vaguely. Gwen pointed her wand at him, and jubilated inwardly. "Incarcerous", she muttered. Thick ropes wrapped around the wizard's arms, binding them on his back.

"Well done, Gwen," she heard James Croaker shout, who together with the red-haired wizard was holding onto another Death Eater. Two other masked wizards jumped forward and snatched their friend from the officials' clutches. James swore loudly.

Three other Death Eaters stormed forward, shouting something, and pointing at Gwen. Roberta turned around and saw Gwen trying to lead away the bound Death Eater. She started running.

But it was too late. Before she could reach her colleague, three jets of red lights hit Gwen and Roberta, who fell to the ground with a thud.

~ooOOoo~


	39. Chapter 39

"What…where…," she stammered as she felt a cool hand on her forehead. She opened her eyes and looked directly into Manisha's dark eyes.

"It's all right," Manisha murmured. "We're still here on the campsite."

"What happened?"

"I don't know exactly, but it seems that you and Roberta got hit by a stunning spell, and fell down."

"Where is she?"

"I'm here," she heard Roberta croak. Gwen turned her head cautiously.

Rob was sitting on the ground, rubbing her forehead. Her dusty black hair stood in all directions.

"Here, these are yours," Manisha handed Gwen her glasses, and helped her getting up. Gwen cleaned them with a quick Tergeo spell, and put them on.

"Where is… where are those Death Eaters?" Gwen looked around, and saw the crowd in the distance. „What happened to James?"

„He told me to stay with you, and went after those… scoundrels," Manisha explained.

"And the one I arrested?"

"Escaped, too, I'm afraid."

They helped Roberta up, who took Gwen's hand gratefully. Their eyes met for some moments.

"You tried to help me," Gwen remarked, "thank you." She blushed.

"Never mind," Roberta hastened to look away, fumbling her robes. When she saw how her robes looked, she glowered. „Oh, I'm so bad at cleaning and sewing spells."

„Me, too," Gwen laughed. The tension ceased.

Manisha grinned. „Good to see you're both all right." She pointed her wand at Roberta's robes and mumbled under her breath. Two big tears were fixed, and several stains removed.

„Thank you," Roberta smiled. „Shall we follow them?"

„Let's go!" Gwen replied, more courageous than she really was. She rubbed the back of her head, which was still aching.

Manisha also didn't look as if she truly wanted to go on chasing Death Eaters, but she nodded mutely.

They ploughed on valiantly, trying to catch up.

„Look!" Gwen suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, pointed at the black sky, and seized Rob's hand. The latter, too, halted.

„Oh, no!" Manisha gasped, her eyes widening.

A huge green skull was glittering over the treetops, rising higher and higher, a serpent jutting out of its mouth.

The crowd in front of them screamed. The three were now near enough to hear the popping sound of several Death Eaters disapparating, but they were still too far away to help the Ministry wizards. Some of them were catching the Robinson family falling down after the Levitating spells had been lifted.

Wizarding people were fleeing in all directions, children were crying, and weeping, tents were trampled down.

"Let's…," Gwen looked at her colleagues for help, anxiously running her hand through her brown curls. "Let's find Isabelle and Nicolas!"

The Death Eaters had all gone, and after all, it wasn't her responsibility to catch them.

"All right, but where?" Roberta frowned. "They've gone to the forest, remember?"

"Let's get to our tents," Gwen suggested, getting panicky, "we won't be able to find them in the woods, and as the … Dark Mark is over there, I suppose they'll try to get back to us anyway."

"Good thinking," Roberta nodded, then poked Manisha, who seemed to have frozen on the spot. "Are you all right?"

Manisha looked at her: "Yes, thanks," she replied.

They ran as fast as they could amongst hurrying people, crumbled tents, smoke and dust. On their way Gwen recognised Madame Maxime with some of her students, bundling together their belongings, and she thought she even got a glimpse of Aidan Lynch, and some other Irish Quidditch team players, who gathered around an old floating tyre, then disappeared in a whirl of green robes.

"_Grâce au ciel!"_ they suddenly heard someone shout, and caught sight of Isabelle in the distance. They ran towards her, and hugged her.

"Are you both all right?" Gwen looked worried at Isabelle and Nicolas, whose little face was very white.

"_Mais oui, _we are fine. I've been packing. We are leaving, I can't stay here with my little boy. What are you going to do?"

Manisha shrugged. She looked as if she wanted to join her.

Roberta said: "I think I'll stay here for the night. A lot of wizarding people have left, and probably all of those Death Eaters, but you never know. I'd like to help the Ministry wizards in case anything else happens."

Manisha and Gwen nodded. "I'll stay with you." "Me, too."

"I'll escort you out of here, Isabelle," Gwen said, "we have to find Basil from Transportation Department, he's the keeper of the Portkeys."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Tuesday, 23 August 1994_

The next morning, Gwen, Manisha, and Roberta woke very early. They skipped breakfast and hurriedly packed up their tents using magic, then tried to find other Ministry officials to know how things stood. Manisha was lucky and came across James Croaker, who told her that everything was quiet now, the Dark Mark had been removed, the Muggle family's memories modified and the presswizards put off. The Ministry officials hadn't been able to catch any of the Death Eaters who had been levitating the Muggle family. There were strange rumours about Mr Crouch's house-elf Winky having conjured the Dark Mark, and about the wand in question being Harry Potter's wand. As Mr Crouch was known as an upright loyal Ministry official, investigations were still ongoing.

"They haven't caught anyone?" Roberta commented, aghast, when Manisha told them what she had heard. "Oh, the press will have a field day." She shuddered.

"I think we can't do anything here anymore," Gwen interposed. "We should try to get home, refresh ourselves and go the Ministry at once." The others assented. Gwen lit a cigarette, the tension fell off her.

"You're right. That's what they probably expect from us," Roberta said grimly.

They found Basil, who was still clad in his kilt and poncho, and supervising a number of portkeys lying on the ground. They awaited their turn. Agitated and panicky witches and wizards were trying to get away from the campsite as fast as they could. The three Ministry witches tried to demonstrate calm. Manisha looked glum, Roberta had dark circles under her eyes. Gwen was shivering inside, but didn't know why.

Finally, they each got a portkey to their homes, and after this – in Gwen's opinion – somewhat unpleasant way of travelling, Gwen stood in front of her beloved cottage, sighing deeply.

She inhaled the salty sea air, and was immensely happy to be back. Seeing the Dark Mark _again_ had been awful and brought back all the memories of the murder in the Death Chamber, even though, fortunately, no one had been killed last night.

Yet before she could reach her doorstep, the door to Miss Carthew's cottage opened and out stormed the old lady, her neighbour Hugh – and Jonathan.

"Here she is!"

"At last!"

"Thank goodness."

All three hurried towards her, and a lump formed inside her throat. Jonathan hugged her, while Hugh stood there waving the _Daily Prophet_, and Miss Carthew seemed very worried, her usually twinkling eyes looking somber.

"Do come inside," Gwen beckoned them, looking around as if she didn't want to be seen outside.

They followed her. Miss Carthew called Wookey and ordered her to get a steaming pot of tea, and some home-made hot crumpets, butter, and marmalade from her kitchen.

When they were all seated in Gwen's kitchen, she told them, between bites of crumpet, what had happened last night. She was really hungry by now.

"I've always been certain that Vol- … I mean He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not defeated," Miss Carthew remarked, sighing deeply.

"Do you think all this means that _He _is back?" Hugh asked, frowning.

Instead of an answer she only shrugged a bit hopelessly. She looked suddenly very frail.

Jonathan, who had got increasingly anxious, drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. "I'm afraid I must go," he said. "I wanted to await your return to know you're … safe and sound, but now I must get back to work." He put on his trilby.

"It's awfully nice that you have come here this morning," she said softly. "I mean you… as an Auror…"

"That goes without saying," he mumbled.

"I'll go with you to the Ministry," Gwen decided, "I think there'll be a lot to do right now."

"Can't you stay here and recover a bit?" Hugh asked, concerned.

"No," Gwen replied, and saw how Miss Carthew nodded silently. She, as a retired Unspeakable, knew the Ministry's rules and proceedings. "Could I borrow this copy of the _Prophet_?"

Hugh nodded and handed her the wizarding newspaper.

~ooOOoo~

"I'll get to Aurors' Headquarters first," Jonathan informed Gwen, when they got out of the gilded fireplaces in the Atrium. "I'll join you later in the DoM," he added softly.

"All right."

Gwen and Jonathan rushed to the lifts. She had the impression that the hubbub of voices in the Atrium was louder and more agitated than usually. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry.

Gwen hastened to the Brain Room, which was deserted. Where was everyone? Normally she loved the lights and soft sounds of the empty Room, but now the quiet weighed on her like lead and made her uneasy. She shuddered.

She entered her office and found a letter on her desk. It was from Isabelle, who informed her that she had taken the day off, to be with her sons, and relax from all the commotions. Gwen left the office again. The brains were swimming quietly inside the green liquid of the enormous tank.

Then, one of the office doors opened, and Firmin issued from it.

"Hi, Gwen!"

"Hi, Firmin. Where _is _everybody?"

"Ademarus has a meeting with Agatha Hill," he answered, rubbing the top of his balding temples. "Isabelle sent him a letter early this morning that she'd taken the day off, and Bob is on sick leave. Says he's got a summer flu. James is officially back, but at the moment he's at Aurors' Headquarters because of the World Cup incident, where he had been on duty."

Gwen nodded. "I see. And Honoria?"

Firmin shrugged. "She's gone to Armenia, didn't she tell you? Vivi is somewhere in the Ministry, you know _her._"

Gwen thanked him and proceeded to the Death Chamber. She would have liked to know what Ademarus had to say, and whether he had received specific instructions from their boss, but no one could say how long their meeting would last. Beside the Arch Alex Campbell, Ivo Gilmour, Mercia Borthwick were standing. They greeted her kindly.

"Is Mrs Beresford in?" she asked them.

Alex Campbell shook his white-haired head.

"I haven't seen her today," Ivo added with his deep voice.

"And Mr Crow?" Gwen looked questioningly at them.

Now it was Mercia Borthwick who could provide an answer: "He's in his office." She pointed to Crow's own office, her clever, brown eyes shining.

Gwen thanked them and proceeded to Archie's and Mayfield's office. When she looked back she saw how they followed her silently with their gaze.

She opened the door with a non-verbal spell and looked around. Everything seemed unchanged. There were the two desks, one of them held the covered tank with Archie's brain in it. Suplinius Crow had promised to continue examining it while she was away at the Quidditch World Cup. But there were no new vials, or memos as far as she could see. She would have to ask him whether he had made any progress.

The other desk, which was used by Mrs Beresford and Jonathan, was surprisingly tidy.

The goblet, the vase, some mugs, gemstones, quills, parchment, candles, and the Mars sculpture were still standing on the small table at the wall. Only the pale-blue mug was missing.


	40. Chapter 40

She sighed deeply, sat on a chair and opened the newspaper Hugh had given her. The front-page was dominated by a sensational report by Rita Skeeter. Gwen stared a moment at the black-and-white photograph of the glittering Dark Mark over the black tree-tops. Something stirred in the back of her mind. She frowned and started reading the article, which was written in Skeeter's usual yellow-press style.

After a while Jonathan came back from the Aurors' Headquarters. He looked worried. When he got sight of Gwen, his features softened. "What are you reading?" He stood behind her, looking down on the _Daily Prophet_ copy she held in her hands. She pointed to Skeeter's article. He frowned at it.

"We were talking about _her, _too," he said. „She's a nuisance. Makes things worse, writing a lot of crap. People might panic. May I have another look?" He held out his right hand. Gwen passed him the copy.

"But...," Jonathan suddenly stammered. "This can't be. It's... Did you see the Dark Mark, Gwen?"

"Yes, of course. I was there."

"Haven't you noticed...?"

"What?"

"Look!" He pointed at the Dark Mark. „It's different from the Dark Mark cast in the Death Chamber."

Gwen's eyes widened in astonishment. "You're right." She took a closer look. "I was so afraid when I saw it on the campsite, that I didn't notice. Just a few minutes ago when I was reading the article I thought that _something_ was odd, but could not put my finger on it."

"I'll get my photographs." He went to his desk, and, after a short search, extracted a file from a neat stack of documents.

"Here we are." He spread out the photos he had taken on the site of the crime after the murder had been detected. "What do you notice?"

Gwen compared the newspaper photo with Jon's wizarding photos. „They are slightly different."

Jonathan nodded excitedly. „Yes, this one's got larger fangs than the first mark. Then look at the shape of the cheekbone, it seems broader in this one. And the snake..."

The snake protruding from the skull's mouth was indeed different in shape.

"And what does that mean?" Gwen asked, feeling somewhat naive. "I mean, is the Dark Mark supposed to always be identical? Might it not be that different Death Eaters conjure different Marks?"

"No." Jon shook his head vehemently. "As far as I remember it has _always_ the same shape, underlining the uniformity, or – as they would probably say – unity, of You-know-who's supporters." He frowned.

"So... why do we see two different marks now?"

They pondered the issue in silence.

At this moment, the door opened and Mrs Beresford entered, carrying a lot of memos, documents, and letters, and slightly smelling of cigarillo smoke. She collapsed into her chair.

"Where can I put all these?" she murmured, while staring at the photographs lying on their desk. "What's the matter?" she asked in her deep voice, when she realised that the others looked rather alarmed by her abrupt appearance.

Jonathan started to explain what they had just discovered, while his boss put the documents she was carrying on another chair nearby. As there were too many of them, they fell on the floor. She sighed and used a Levitation spell to make them hover in mid-air.

"Yes, you're right, the Dark Mark should always be identical." She frowned. "Let me see."

She, too, started to make comparisons between the two Dark Marks, and groaned. "I can't believe it. They'll have our hide for sure. Why haven't we noticed before?"

"Well, nobody has noticed it, nobody can't blame you..." Gwen tried, but Mrs Beresford jumped up.

"But we are supposed to _know_," she exclaimed, wringing her hands. She scrutinised the photographs again. "There is no doubt, the Dark Marks are different. Well done, Jonathan. And what do you make of it?"

He looked up: "Well, if one of the Dark Marks is different from the others, it could mean that one of the Dark Marks is a ... a fake. Not a Dark Mark at all."

"But which one's the fake one?" Gwen asked, looking from one photograph to the other like someone watching a muggle tennis match.

"This one," Mrs Beresford pointed to Jon's photograph with the glimmering Dark Mark in the Death Chamber. "I am quite sure now. The one from the World Cup looks as it had always looked when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was powerful. It's been a while. Look at the snake. And the fangs. The eyes are… all right, so to speak. We didn't notice that the first one was… wrong." She drummed her fingers. "Merlin's beard, why would someone try and forge the Dark Mark?"

She paused for a moment, clearing her throat.

"We know that only Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named know the correct way to cast the Morsmordre spell," Jon said slowly. "So, perhaps, if someone tries to conjure a Dark Mark, and gets it… erm… let's say, gets it a bit wrong…"

"… it means that this someone is _not_ a Death Eater," Gwen continued. "But why on earth would someone try to…to imitate a Death Eater?"

Jonathan stood suddenly up: "Perhaps someone who wants us to _think_ that the crime has been committed by a Death Eater. The Dark Mark is simply… a diversion."

Gwen looked aghast: "But who could be so…"

"Perfidious and cynical?" Mrs Beresford suggested.

Gwen looked at her: "Exactly. So evil and cynical as to use a Death Eater spell as a red herring?" She remembered Miss Carthew's warnings.

Jonathan looked grim and began pacing to and fro. "I'd say, if someone wants us to think the murderer is a Death Eater, and they aren't a Death Eater, it simply means that we have to look out for something nearer home. Which wouldn't have been an Auror's job, by the way, but the job of a Hit Wizard or Witch."

"Oh!" Suddenly Gwen remembered her conversation with Manisha during the Quidditch World Cup. "I know something… I completely forgot about it because of those Death Eaters manhandling the Muggles, and the Dark Mark, and all the agitation, and the abrupt parting…"

"I beg your pardon?" Mrs Beresford asked. Jonathan halted in his pacing, and looked at Gwen in anticipation.

"Sorry. I'm getting off the point. Manisha and I were sitting at the fire, and… kind of gossiping. I think she was trying to insinuate that Roberta was in love with someone, but she didn't say with whom." Gwen cast a side-glance at Jon, hoping he wouldn't realise _why _Manisha had told her so.

"As a matter of fact I'm prone to sudden uncontrolled bouts of legilimency. When Manisha told me about Roberta I suddenly saw a picture of Roberta and Timothy."

Mrs Beresford and Jonathan listened with rapt attention.

"A picture in her mind, I mean. Timothy had his arm around Roberta and both were standing in front of the Arch in the Death Chamber, looking at Archibald's dead body."

In the silence that followed one could have heard a pin drop.

Then Mrs Beresford took a sharp inward breath: "Are you sure that what you saw was the _truth_? I mean, that it _really _happened?"

Gwen shrugged. "I could not give you a 100-percent-guarantee, but when I asked you the other day whether I could meet Jonathan, I saw a picture of a Hogsmeade street, which was, after all, the truth…"

Mrs Beresford was obviously trying to suppress her indignation. Gwen managed to look innocent. She didn't mention that in _that _case the legilimency had happened on purpose, and with a wand.

"Timothy Oakden and Roberta Dunphy. I see." Jonathan slammed his fist on the desk. Some papers went flying. Gwen flinched, but Mrs Beresford didn't blink an eye. "This Timothy discovered the victim and reported the murder, but he never mentioned that Roberta was with him!"

"And what has Manisha got to do with the whole affair? If she saw the two down there in the Death Chamber, it means that she, too, was at the crime scene!"

"We know that she knows Macnair. He's a Death Eater."

"But this _isn't_ about Death Eaters!"

"Oh! Well,…"

"Well, it seems Macnair lent Archibald Dusk some money."

"This is all so confusing…"

"I want to interrogate them – _all_ of them. I'll call for Pete and Gasparus. Then we'll bring them all here," Mrs Beresford ordered. "Manisha Cullen, Roberta Dunphy, Timothy Oakden, and Walden Macnair!"

Jonathan jumped up at once, fumbling for his wand, while Gwen got up slowly.

"But be careful. They must not suspect anything. And I need to talk to Alex Campbell, we'll need several rooms for the interrogations. I don't want to move them all to the Aurors' Headquarters."

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	41. Chapter 41

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

"Where else could he be?" Jonathan asked Gwen when nobody answered their knocking.

Mrs Beresford had sent Pete and Gasparus after Walden Macnair. She would go searching for Manisha, while Jon and Gwen were ordered to find Timothy and Roberta. Timothy was not in his office, nor near the Arch where Gwen had seen him pretty often.

Alex Campbell had provided Mrs Beresford with the keys for several smaller offices in the Death Chamber, so they could interrogate everyone separately. He would even prepare them _for interrogation purposes_, he had promised.

"I don't know," Gwen answered. "Timothy researches ghosts. If he's not in here, he might be in the Spirit Division on Level Four. Or perhaps he's in field service."

"Then let's try to find him upstairs," Jonathan suggested, heading toward the Death Chamber exit.

When Gwen and Jonathan left the Death Chamber, Gwen got a last glimpse of Mrs Beresford entering an office with Manisha Cullen, who looked around uneasily with her round black eyes.

They headed towards the lift, and pressed the button. When the lift stopped at the Atrium level, Timothy entered and said hello rather absent-mindedly. The golden grilles shut clattering behind him.

"What a coincidence!" Jonathan cried, when the lift went further up. "We've been looking for you, you know."

Timothy looked at them, now warily. "What's the matter?"

"We don't want to talk about this in public," Jonathan gave him a meaningful glance. "Please follow us to the Department of Mysteries." He pressed the button to stop the lift.

Gwen felt suddenly miserable. She wasn't an Auror after all, and could have slapped herself for not thinking about what would happen if her colleagues saw her investigating together with the Aurors _against _them. So she didn't utter a word, and just looked apologetically down at her toecaps.

"What's up, eh?" Timothy enquired. "I'm in rather a hurry, you know." He pressed the button to get up again.

"We can't consider this right now," Jonathan put his hand on Timothy's arm.

"But…no!" Timothy withdrew abruptly, alert and on guard. "I must get out here!" They had arrived at Level Seven. The female voice made its usual announcement, and the grilles opened. Jonathan pressed the button to close the door and go down again.

"Please, Timothy," Gwen tried to help. "It's just some more questions they want to ask you."

"I'm really in a hurry." He looked up, as if he was trying to find a way to return to Level Seven.

„What is so urgent that you can't come with us?" Jonathan asked sternly. Gwen, too, wondered what Timothy wanted in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

„That's none of your business." Gwen had never seen Timothy in such a nervous state.

„Listen," he tried to convince Jonathan. „Could I come down to you in ... let's say a quarter of an hour? I really will come and answer your questions, I've got nothing to hide. It's just ... not possible right now."

Jonathan moved his head slowly from one side to the other.

„Five minutes?" He was pleading now.

Jonathan sighed. „No," he said gravely. „And if you don't come I'll have to arrest you."

„Oh," was all Timothy could say to that. „Well, then..." He shrugged resignedly, looking in a somewhat desperate way at Gwen.

„Gwen," Jonathan whispered into her ear, „could you please go on searching for _you know who_ while I start interrogating this guy."

Gwen nodded, and accompanied them a little farther. The first place to look for Roberta was, after all, the Time Room, where the witch worked.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

"Now, what further questions do you have?" the blond Timothy asked light-heartedly.

"Sit down," Jon told him. He looked stern.

Timothy sat down without a word. If he was surprised he didn't let it on. The office the two wizards had been assigned to was nearly empty. It was one of those small offices at the far end of the Death Chamber, which none of the Death Chamber staff ever used. Someone had brought in a rickety table and two uncomfortable chairs. A black torch at the wall illuminated the room. A small flask containing a clear colourless liquid was standing on the table. The air was chilly.

"On the morning you reported the murder you weren't alone in the Death Chamber. Who was with you?" _It's a test, _Jonathan thought, _let's see whether he answers that one truthfully…_

Timothy looked up, his eyes widened. "Who told you that?"

_He tries to stall for time. _"I am the one who asks the questions," Jonathan said sharply. He and Timothy had been on good terms up to now, but Jonathan knew that now he had to be rigorous.

"I… I really can't tell you. I would have done so when I reported the murder. Please, believe me…" He ruffled his blond hair.

"I can't. And I won't. Don't you realise what situation you are in right now? You didn't tell me the entire truth when it happened. Now I must assume that _everything _you told me then is a lie."

"But no, no…" Timothy wrang his hands. "How can I make you understand? I…"

"I don't want to understand." Jonathan started to get angry. "I want to _know_." He got up and paced the cold office. "Do you know what that is?" He pointed at the flask.

Timothy gulped. "I hope it's not Veritaserum," he mumbled.

"It is."

"But… it's not permitted. Do you know what happens when you use a potion, which forces the drinker to speak, on an Unspeakable?"

"A number of different adverse effects have been reported," Jonathan replied coolly.

"Did Agatha Hill give permission for the use of Veritaserum?" Timothy asked.

"Listen, man," Jonathan slammed his fist on the wobbly table, "just tell me _who _was with you that morning, and we can try to find out what _really _happened, and who murdered Archibald Dusk. Because now it seems to me that you and your… your partner did it, or that your partner did it, and you're trying to protect him or her…"

"It is a witch, all right," Timothy wanted to get up, too, but Jon signalled him to remain seated. So the blond wizard sat down again. He was very agitated. "I can't tell you who she is, don't you _see. _I am a married man and have two kids."

"Now then, you're married. I can hold my tongue if this doesn't concern the murder case. You were there with a witch. You thought you were alone in the morning. Is the witch married, too?"

"No, but…"

"Then you can tell me her name!" He bent forward and looked into Timothy's eyes.

"She does not belong to the Death Chamber staff, that's why…"

"If you two aren't the ones who murdered Archie, it might even be dangerous for both of you if we don't find the culprit soon."

Timothy blinked. "You are right." He took a deep breath. It looked as if he were taking a run and jump. "There is, in fact, _something _she wanted to tell me. That's why I wanted to meet her. She asked me to come urgently. I've never seen her so nervous. She told me that she'd remembered something…"

"Who's she?"

"Roberta. Roberta Dunphy."

Jonathan sighed. _At long last, _he thought. _Now we can go on._

"What else do you have to tell me which up to now you have withheld from us?"

"The time we found the victim wasn't correct. We found the victim earlier than I told you."

"What time did you find him?"

"Well… it was really Roberta who found the body. She left my office after… well, she… she suddenly called me. She looked horrified. Said there was a dead wizard lying on his face, and the Dark Mark hovering high above him. I left my office and ran to the Arch, and I was… shocked. We didn't know what to do. There was Archie, lying on the dais, stone-dead…"

"How did you know?"

"I… think I bent down and felt his pulse. There was none. And he didn't breathe. It was horrible." Timothy shuddered. "I mean, he had been my colleague, I had seen him nearly every day. Had worked with him in this same Chamber for many years… I think I was under a shock."

Jonathan frowned. "What time was that?"

"About half past seven. Bit earlier perhaps."

"And you didn't report the murder until a quarter past eight!" Jon exclaimed, angrily.

"We… we didn't know what to deliberated… and decided that Roberta should return to the Time Room without anyone being the wiser. I wanted to give her a head-start. She was to try to establish an alibi with the help of her time-turners. She works with time-turners, you know. But she usually doesn't use one when we meet, I mean…" He stopped, obviously realising what further offences he was about to reveal.

"Anything else you would like to tell me _now?_" Jonathan growled.

"No, but, please, Jonathan, couldn't we try to find her? I mean, perhaps she really remembers something important? She wanted me to come to the Bistro in the Magic Gym."

"I will go and look for her. _You _will stay here." He pointed his wand at Timothy and bound him on the chair.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	42. Chapter 42

When Jonathan and Timothy entered the Death Chamber, Gwen opened the door to the Time Room. As always, the towering crystal bell jar with its dancing, diamond-bright light at the far end attracted her attention. A tiny, jewel-bright egg was floating along in the glittering current inside. As it rose inside the jar, it cracked open and a hummingbird emerged and was carried to the very top. As it fell on the draught the bird's feathers became grubby and damp again, and by the time it had been borne back to the bottom of the jar it had been enclosed once more in its egg. This process repeated itself over and over again.

She tore herself away from that silent drama of birth and rebirth, and looked around. There were several wizarding people, but Roberta was nowhere to be seen. Gwen approached an elderly wizard with wispy grey hair who was sitting on a desk with several clocks, scribbling numbers and strange symbols onto a very long piece of parchment.

"Excuse me, sir."

He looked up at her with bemused grey eyes behind round spectacles.

"Yes, miss."

"Could you please tell me where I can find Roberta Dunphy? She's not here at the moment, and I need to talk to her urgently."

"She's gone to the Magic Gym, as far as I know," he croaked.

"Thank you very much, Sir." _Is this the reason why Timothy wanted to get out at Level Seven so urgently?_ She shivered suddenly. _Did he want to meet Roberta? _Should she go and search for Rob, or first give Jonathan this piece of information?

_Oh damn it_, she thought, hoping against all hope that Roberta had nothing to do with the murder. She felt more miserable than ever. _This is just my kind of luck. _W_hy must it be the witch I fancy who is involved in a murder case?_

She said good-bye to the old wizard and went to see Jonathan.

~ooOOoo~

The chilly Death Chamber seemed deserted, but Gwen knew that behind the office doors there were several interrogations in progress. She held her breath and listened. Nothing could be heard. She frowned. She knew that Mrs Beresford was interrogating Manisha, and Jonathan Timothy. Perhaps Pete and Gasparus had already found Macnair. Would they interrogate him straight away, or leave that task to Mrs Beresford?

_Which office is Jonathan's? _She opened her mind, it was the reverse of occluding her mind. She tried to perceive thoughts, images, waves – whatever. But she sensed nothing.

She passed Archibald's office, where they all had been investigating for so long. She suddenly walked on tiptoes, even though she didn't know why. She passed Manisha's office. The door was slightly ajar. _She's probably forgotten to close it after Mrs Beresford came for her,_ Gwen thought. She paused in her steps. She pondered. Manisha. Macnair's acquaintance. Perhaps even his friend? His accomplice? Perhaps she only pretended to dislike him?

All of a sudden, curiosity got the better of Gwen. She stealed into Manisha's office and glanced around. _Manisha has seen Rob and Tim looking down at Archie, which could mean, after all, that she herself was the murderer, _Gwen thought, _perhaps I can find some evidence, some proof, anything._ She tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that she simply didn't want to accept that Roberta, whom she liked, could be involved in this murder business.

Gwen approached Manisha's desk. There were several files, some parchments, quills, a pile of violet-coloured memos, and a big coffee mug. No photographs.

_Yet why did Manisha tell me of Roberta being in love? _Gwen continued in her reflections. _Doesn't that prove that she wanted to help? That she is innocent? _But then, Manisha couldn't have known that Gwen would get a glimpse of one of her memories. That Gwen would know that Manisha had been an eye-witness. Manisha had only informed her that Roberta did not tell everything about her private life, which could even have come in handy if she, Manisha herself, would be accused of the crime. Gwen looked hopeful.

_She wouldn't hide any proof openly on her desk. _Gwen took a deep breath, listened intently whether anyone was outside the office. She didn't want to think about what would happen if anyone found her in here, trespassing. She wasn't an Auror. She had no powers of investigation.

Gwen looked at the shelves on the wall. There were a lot of books. Gwen looked at the titles, they dealt mainly with Manisha's main subject, rebirth and reincarnation, but there were also books about spirit summons, the otherworld, ancestor worship, even about Quidditch. There was also a pair of Keeper's gloves.

Gwen sighed. It seemed to be a hopeless task. _And I should be searching for Roberta, _Gwen thought guiltily. She suddenly looked at an intricate glass vase with a lot of coloured beads on it. _What is that? _Gwen thought. _I'd never thought Manisha would keep such a crudity._ _And this ... thing seems to be the only personal item in here. There are no photos, no pictures._ She held her breath. Just an idea...

Gwen listened again, but everything seemed quiet outside. She extracted her wand and pointed it at the vase, muttering a Revelio charm.

Her hunch had been right. The vase turned into a simple file. Gwen took some steps forward and seized the file. She opened it, excited, and with trembling fingers. The file contained innumerous annotations which she first didn't understand. Then she found several photos of a small glass tank with a brain inside.

_A brain? What...?!_

She looked more closely. She actually _knew _this brain. It was Adalbert Waffling's brain, which Vivi had procured for their colleague, James Croaker, who had been granted the honour of examining the brain of the "father of magical theory".

_How envious we all had been, _Gwen remembered. What had Manisha got to do with Adalbert Waffling's brain? Why had she photos of it in her possession? James Croaker had been on leave for some time, had she meanwhile gained access to the brain? But how? And why? And what had that to do with the murder?

Gwen hesitated some seconds, then took the file with her, and left the office hurriedly. Outside she met Jonathan. He looked at her, aghast.

"What _are _you doing here?" he frowned at her. "I thought you were looking for Roberta?"

"I… I was," Gwen replied feebly. "I am. I… erm… I just found this."

"Never mind now. We'll talk about this later. We must try and find Roberta. Timothy, too, has been looking for her. He's worried. She seems to know _something_. Let's get going. Quickly!" Jonathan took the lead, Gwen followed him.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~


	43. Chapter 43

The Bistro was nearly empty, except for two young witches, who were enjoying their sparkling lime-green energy drinks, chattering happily. The slender green-haired Amelinda was drying up glasses behind the counter.

"Shouldn't she be here waiting for Timothy?" Gwen asked Jonathan, under her breath, after returning Amelinda's salute.

He nodded. "Yes, that's what Timothy told me. Excuse me," he turned to Amelinda. "Have you seen Roberta Dunphy anywhere?"

Amelinda frowned. „Erm... let me think." She took up another glass. „She had been here for a while, but I suppose she went inside." She didn't look at Jonathan.

Jonathan shrugged and beckoned Gwen to follow him. They entered the central hall of the Magic Gym and looked around.

As it was mid-day, a lot of witches and wizards were exercising on the treadmills, bikes, and benches.

"Let's separate." Jonathan whispered. "It'll be easier to find her. And be careful!" He looked into her eyes, and pressed her hands.

"Don't worry." Gwen still hoped that Roberta was a friend. A real friend. They had been exercising in here so many times, they had been together at the Quidditch World Cup, they had even slept in the same tent! Gwen wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt until she _knew._ Yet she wasn't a fool. She had her wand ready, just in case.

She traversed the aisles between the machines, looking around at the sportswizards. A muscular wizard was lifting weights, but he did it so easily, and obviously in order to impress some young giggling witches nearby, that she assumed he was secretly using a Levitation spell.

She turned around and found Eleanor on a treadmill.

"Hi there!" Gwen was happy to see a familiar face at last.

"Hi Gwen," Eleanor smiled. "Why aren't you wearing your workout gear?"

"I'm looking for Roberta. Have you seen her?"

"Yes, I saw her in the Bistro earlier. But I think she still hasn't come in to exercise. What's up with you girls today?" Then she seemed to remember. "Is it because of that World Cup incident? You were there, weren't you?" she whispered.

"Erm… yes." Gwen shuffled her feet uneasily. "So she's been in the Bistro, but hasn't come in here. Are you sure?"

Eleanor stopped treading. "Well, I don't know for sure, of course. I haven't been looking at the door the entire time. But I would have noticed her, or she would have said hello, wouldn't she?" She alighted from the treadmill, and wiped her face with the towel she had over her shoulders. "If you like I'll help you with the search. This is important, isn't it?"

"Erm, yeah, … thanks." Gwen wasn't sure whether she wanted the victim's wife looking with her for a suspect.

"Perhaps she's gone into the changing rooms," Eleanor suggested. Gwen nodded silently, and took the lead, back to the Bistro. There they looked around again. Amelinda was talking to a tall black-haired wizard, the two young witches were still there, and three wizards with brooms over their shoulders were having a drink, but Roberta was nowhere to be seen.

They proceeded towards the ladies' changing rooms.

"Here you are!" Gwen looked relieved when she finally found Roberta, sitting on one of the wooden benches. "I've been looking for you." She turned towards Eleanor. "Eleanor, erm…, would you mind… I mean, could you do us a favour and order some energy drinks for the three of us, I mean, wait for us in the Bistro?"

Eleanor looked astonished, but not hurt, just nodded, turned around, and left them alone.

"That wasn't exactly polite," Roberta commented, getting up from the bench. "Why have you been looking for me?"

"Aren't _you _waiting for Timothy?"

Roberta's eyes narrowed: "How do you know?"

Gwen ignored her question, and continued stubbornly: "Shouldn't you be waiting for him in the Bistro? I mean he can't come in _here_…"

Roberta looked wary: "I saw that Auror coming in."

"Yeah, we've _all _been looking for you." She made a pause. "We _know_…," she added with emphasis.

"You know _what?_"

„We know that you were _there – _with Timothy."

„Where?"

Gwen took a deep breath. „At the Arch. Where Archibald was lying dead."

„I know what you think!" Roberta said, "but it wasn't me!" She took a sharp inward breath. „Really, it wasn't me!"

„I'd like to believe you," Gwen looked at her, searching her face. „I really do. Because for me you are a friend. I'd really _love_ to know that you have got nothing to do with the murder, Rob." She felt horrible. "But I need a _proof_."

„I trusted you," Roberta replied, almost inaudibly. „I didn't know you were in league with the Aurors."

„I'm working with them," Gwen said dignified. „You know that. We have to find out who killed Archibald Dusk. We're not your enemies. If you've got nothing to do with the murder, you've got nothing to fear. You can trust me. I... I've always liked you."

„I know," Roberta said softly. „I like you, too."

„I'm worried. Timothy, too, is worried. If you've seen something that points to the murderer, you might be in danger. Come with me, we'll find Jonathan, and tell him what you know."

„But how will they believe me _now_?" Roberta started pacing to and fro. „We should have come forward _much _earlier. Damn Timothy and his holy family!" Roberta's grey eyes flashed. She suddenly looked straight at Gwen. „Pity I am not like you..."

„What do you mean?"

„Well, being... being able to love men _and _women..."

„So you know, don't you?" Gwen didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

„I saw you with the Veela," Rob smiled as she remembered. „At the World Cup. Do you remember?"

Gwen blushed a bit. „Erm... that's right. That was stupid."

„No, no, it wasn't your fault. That's their magic." She stopped smiling. „Listen, I'll tell you anyway. It was at the Quidditch World Cup where we talked about gemmology, do you remember? And who wears gems and who doesn't. It was then and there that I suddenly remembered that I had seen a glimmer, a glitter down there in the Death Chamber under the Dark Mark. I was so shocked at seeing the dead, and then finding myself and Tim in such an awkward situation that I completely forgot about it. Only our conversation about the gems reminded me that I had seen a glimmer down there and that I couldn't allocate it. I tried to grasp it, but it ... kind of floated away. At the Quidditch World Cup I suddenly realised that it could have been a gem reflecting the light emitted by the Dark Mark."

Gwen listened with rapt attention.

„I know it sounds absurd. And nobody will believe me _now_." She sounded defeated. „After all that time."

_She couldn't act like this,_ _could she? _Gwen thought, uncertain. _She's surely telling the truth. _

„But how...? I mean, if you saw a gem, how come you didn't see the ... rest of the person?" Something stirred in the back of Gwen's mind.

Roberta shrugged. „I don't know. It's just an idea. It looked like a – gem."

„Let's sort this out later, Roberta, let's find the others." Gwen murmured, and took Rob's arm.

They left the changing room and entered the Bistro. Jonathan was nowhere to be seen, but Eleanor was just approaching one of the small round tables, balancing three frizzling pink drinks with the help of a _Locomotor _spell. Gwen had completely forgotten about her, and looked at Roberta for help. The latter understood.

„Oh thanks a lot, Eleanor! That is really nice," Rob cried enthusiastically. „But I'm afraid I must leave instantly. Erm... lots of work to do."

„Oh," Eleanor said, disappointed.

„Is Jonathan still inside the Gym?" Gwen asked her. „Have you seen him leaving?"

"Do you mean the Auror Hope? No, I haven't seen him. If he's gone in before, he'll have to come here sooner or later, don't you think? Let's take a sip while you wait for him." Eleanor shoved the glasses towards the two witches. Gwen looked at the pink liquid in front of her, and, all of a sudden, she saw crystal-clear why that glimmer Roberta had told her about sounded so familiar.

Gwen remembered that April morning in the Brain Room. She had had a terrible hangover. She had been dreadfully cold. She had been squinting her eyes and then – she had seen a pink _glint_.

Roberta had told her the truth. She had seen a glimmer in the Death Chamber, and she, Gwen, had seen a pink glint in the Brain Room. That was the way towards...

It happened within seconds. She looked at the glasses, at Eleanor, who usually worked in the Planet Room, at her rose-quartz pendant, and then at Roberta. She went cold inside, and took Rob's arm to prevent her from drinking.

"Was it a _pink _glimmer?" she murmured, hoping that Roberta would cotton on immediately.

Roberta put her glass down. "Maybe." She looked at Gwen, then at Eleanor. "The light of the Dark Mark was green, so it's difficult to say."

Eleanor looked at them, apparently bewildered.

"It was _you,_ wasn't it?" Gwen asked the blonde widow, suddenly feeling audacious, and extracting her wand. "Putting poison into Archibald's tea, I mean." Her voice was menacingly quiet. "You used an invisibility cloak, but they aren't very reliable, are they? We saw you, part of you. And now you've poisoned our drinks, too, I assume? You've been listening at the door of the changing room. You just got us the drinks, but we have been talking for quite a while, why did it take you so long?"

"What…?" Eleanor gasped. She fumbled for her own wand, and looked around frantically.

"_Incarcerous_!" Gwen shouted. But her spell missed Eleanor, who had suddenly ducked, and started running towards the door.

"_Stupefy_!" Rob's spell, too, missed the target. Eleanor was in good shape and sprinted. They pushed back their chairs and ran after her.

"Amelinda, keep these drinks, but don't touch them, this is urgent! Understand?!" Gwen yelled. The green-haired sportswitch nodded with big round eyes. The young witches and the wizards with the broomsticks stared after Gwen and Roberta.

In the corner of her eye Gwen saw Jonathan entering the Bistro from the central hall. "It's Eleanor," she shouted. "She did it! Help us!"

Jonathan followed her at a run, even though he didn't comprehend the full meaning of all this.

~ooOOoo~


	44. Chapter 44

After leaving the Magic Gym, Gwen looked frantically up and down the untidy-looking corridor, the walls of which were hung with various Quidditch posters, but she couldn't see the blonde witch anymore. Where is she?, she thought, squinting her eyes.

"There!" Roberta pointed in one direction, where the blonde sheet of hair was just visible within a group of wizarding people going down to the lifts. They hurried onwards.

"I suppose she's trying to get to the Atrium to disapparate from there," Roberta gasped, "and I think she's good at Apparition."

Gwen groaned, for she wasn't. "First she must get to the lifts, though."

They reached the lifts, panting, and saw Eleanor no more. Gwen cursed. Jonathan caught up with them and they all entered a lift.

Inside the lift Roberta remarked darkly: "She's a speedy runner, I've seen her in the Magic Gym, she's in good shape."

"I've sent a Patronus to all my colleagues, if any of them is in the Atrium, they'll keep their eyes open and get at her," Jonathan explained.

But it seemed hopeless, after all the Atrium was on the 8th level, just one level below.

They nearly jumped out of the lift, gasping and looking around wildly.

Then, all three suddenly relaxed, and a beaming smile stretched across their faces.

Mrs Beresford and Kingsley Shacklebolt were standing in the middle of the Atrium, detaining Eleanor, who struggled fiercely, between them. Bystanders and passersby goggled at the scene. Shacklebolt used an Incarcerous spell, while Mrs Beresford removed Eleanor's wand. Eleanor was close to tears.

"I'm innocent," she moaned. "It wasn't me. You're wrong. He was my husband. How _dare _you suggest…"

The three joined them. Mrs Beresford gave them a rare smile. "Here is your suspect, Jonathan, as requested. Luckily we happened to come up from the DoM, when we got your message. We just had to exit here and throw ourselves at the lady to catch her before she could disapparate. Now, could you please tell us why you think _she _is our murderer?"

Jonathan looked somewhat embarrassed, and pointed to Gwen and Rob. "I just followed them," he explained. "There was no time to discuss. They were running after her, and I followed them, trusting they had a good proof for their accusation." "They have not," Eleanor sobbed. "You are mistaken. Look at all the people – what will they think?"

"We'll see," Mrs Beresford said, and led her back to the lifts. "Let's go to level Two, Auror Headquarters, and sort this out. Jonathan, will you come with me?"

"Yes, madam, and we'll need Gwen, too, won't we?"

The Auror nodded.

Kingsley Shacklebolt announced that he'll take care of Manisha Cullen, Timothy Oakden, and Walden Macnair, who were still in the interrogation rooms they had established in the Death Chamber.

"What about me?" Roberta asked, looking hopefully in Gwen's and Jonathan's direction.

"You can join me, if you want," Shacklebolt replied. Then he turned again to Mrs Beresford, and said casually: "I'll bring you the Veritaserum as soon as I can."

Eleanor seemed to shrink in size.

Gwen said: "I'll join you later. First I'll go back to the Magic Gym Bistro and get those drinks Eleanor wanted to serve us. Amelinda is keeping them. I think we should have them examined for _Invisibiliserum._"

Gwen watched Eleanor's eyes widen in fear.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

_Thursday, 25 August 1994_

Jonathan, Honoria, and Hugh had settled down on Gwen's comfortable sofa and Miss Carthew in one of the armchairs. Rain was slashing heavily against the window, and a merry fire crackled in the corner. Napoleon was lying on a sheep-skin, eyes closed, but ears twitching. He was obviously hoping to nick some titbit soonish.

"_Incroyable, _this weather is unbelievable," said Isabelle, who was standing beside the window, moving elegantly as always, a still empty glass in hand. „I mean it's _August_..."

Gwen entered the sitting-room with a bottle of champaign, which she opened with a flick of her wand. „Thanks for lighting the fire, Hugh," she nodded to her friend and neighbour, „it's rather chilly today."

Jonathan came forward, took the bottle from her, and poured the silvery-golden liquid in the glasses of those present, then raised his own glass.

"Let's drink a toast to Gwen," he said, „who had the right inspiration at the right time." He looked at her with pride.

The others joined him cheering.

"To you all," Gwen raised her glass, blushing, „without your help we wouldn't have caught the culprit."

"Well," said Honoria, clad in her usual flowing earthy-coloured robes, "I didn't contribute _at all_."

"You told us about the h… the things Archibald and Jacobus Mayfield worked with," Isabelle beamed.

"But these _things_ have nothing to do with the murder," Miss Carthew remarked shrewdly. Gwen grinned.

"You _did_ help us in a way, Honoria," Gwen said. "The gems, don't you remember?"

„The gems?"

"You told us about gemmology. And it was a glittering gem that ultimately betrayed the murderess." Gwen smiled.

Jonathan looked deeply contented. "It's good to know that you and Roberta are such good observers."

"Oh dear, not me, if Roberta hadn't told me about that glimmer in the Death Chamber…"

"Well, but _two _glimmers told you who the culprit was," Jonathan insisted.

Hugh took a handful of crisps. "How was that exactly?" he wanted to know.

"Well, if Roberta had seen the gem in the Death Chamber, and I suppose she's seen it after the murder had been committed, and I saw it shortly afterwards in the Brain Room, that meant that someone wearing that gem passed from the Death Chamber to a room adjoining the Brain Room, or else they would have gone directly to the Circular Room. It was just a hunch, but the room adjoining the Brain Room is the Planet Room. And as Eleanor works there… apart from that I had her in front of me, serving us the drinks, wearing her pink rose-quartz. It simply fitted."

"And Manisha? I understand you saw a memory where she had seen Roberta and Timothy in the Death Chamber with the victim. Why didn't she tell the Aurors?" Honoria looked somewhat indignant. "I mean, there is a strong solidarity amongst colleague Unspeakables, but there are nevertheless limits, and she is an outsider after all…"

"But not only that," Jonathan chuckled. "Manisha is quite a different story. She finally told us everything she had seen in the Death Chamber, since she was afraid we'd suspect _her_ of having killed Archibald. Which she hasn't. But she has another ghoul in her closet, so to speak, and therefore wouldn't want to be detected. Manisha had," Jonathan coughed and made a dramatic pause, "repeatedly 'borrowed' Adalbert Waffling's brain from the Brain Room. Interestingly, her story is backed by evidence Gwen was able to provide," Jonathan pointed to Gwen, who turned pink again. "Anyway, that's why Manisha was in her Death Chamber office early in the morning. And in this business she worked together with Macnair, at least she says so."

Miss Carthew smiled knowingly, and Hugh and Isabelle got big round eyes.

"She wanted to steal knowledge from this brain, which she then passed over to Macnair, who is possibly a Death Eater, even though we certainly can't prove that. He, however, denies being involved with her, we've only got her word for it."

"She could have done it for her employer, that Hindi millionaire, Dr Rajesh Daryapurkar?", Isabelle suggested.

"No, we don't think so, we've looked into him, of course. Nothing there. But Manisha has been in contact with Macnair for a while, even before she took the job for that millionaire." Jonathan took a sip of champaign. "We suppose that one of Macnair's _friends_ helped her to get the job with the millionaire, and the position in the Department of Mysteries."

"They are all well-connected," Miss Carthew interposed.

"Anyway, she used to nick the brain from the Brain Room very early in the morning, we think she had somehow obtained the key for James Croaker's office door, and brought it back before any of the staff appeared, she then left the Department of Mysteries, and came back to work later," Jonathan explained. Isabelle settled beside Napoleon on the sheep skin, and fondled his ears. He started purring.

"The morning of the murder, it is the same," Jonathan continued. "Yet when she brings the brain into the Death Chamber, she sees two lovers just entering Tim's office, and – since they haven't seen her – she rapidly withdraws into her own office. She supposes that she's got some time to get some new information from the brain. She doesn't notice the murder happening, since the offices are sound-proof, and anyway the murderess proceeds without making any noise. The first to detect the body is Roberta who gets out of the office where she has been…," he coughed again, "making love to Timothy."

Gwen took some crisps, and glowered.

"Roberta becomes frightened and calls Timothy. Manisha has finished her work and opens the door a bit to know whether the coast is clear, she hears that call. She sees the two in front of the Arch, under the Dark Mark, behind the victim, deliberating in nervous whispers what to do. She keeps waiting. Roberta disappears, Timothy waits for quite a long time to give her a headstart, then he leaves to call in the Aurors. That's when Manisha leaves, too, she can't bring the brain back to the Brain Room, it's far too late, later than usual, I mean, there could be people in the Brain Room. She is already lucky that nobody sees her in the Death Chamber. She leaves to come back to work later as if nothing had happened. She told us that she brought the brain back the day after the murder. She's got a glass tank with some of the green liquid in her closet. She was well prepared. James Croaker was on leave, and wouldn't notice the missing brain, but she usually brought it back every morning, just in case."

That was a rather long talk for Jonathan. He took another sip of champaign, and some crisps.

"And I trusted Manisha," Gwen shook her head. "Is she, too, a Death Eater?"

"She wears the mark on the inside of her arm," Jonathan nodded.

"_Alors, that's_ why she didn't want to sleep with us in one tent," Isabelle squealed. "She usually wears long-sleeved robes, but she surely was afraid we could notice the mark on her arm when she was asleep or got changed."

"She said, of course," Jonathan continued, "that she wasn't a Death Eater anymore, that she had been under an Imperius curse before You-Know-Who was defeated, that she had renounced the _old ways_, as she put it, and that Macnair had forced her into cooperation."

"Hear, hear," Honoria mumbled. "Now that sounds very original."

"_If_ Voldemort…" Everybody jumped at the mention of the name. "…ever comes back, she possibly would join him." Miss Carthew murmured. "I think Manisha Cullen shares the Death Eaters' views and beliefs."

No one doubted her words, but no one dared to ask how she knew.

"You are being very pessimistic." Jonathan remarked. "I mean, thinking that You-Know-Who's coming back one day…"

"Don't you think so?" Miss Carthew looked a bit sad.

They didn't say a word for a while, thinking of the frightening green skull hovering over the Quidditch World Cup campsite. Gwen shivered, and went forward to stir the fire.

"Now, tell us about Eleanor, will you? Why did she murder her husband?", Hugh asked. "What was her _motive_?"

"Perhaps Gwen can tell you that, she was there when we interrogated Eleanor after she'd been caught by Mrs Beresford and Shacklebolt." Jonathan leant back and stretched himself luxuriously.

All faces turned towards Gwen.


	45. Chapter 45

"Well, it was the same old story. It was all about money. And – there was another man in the offing." Gwen began. "It transpired that she had married Archibald only because she had heard he had inherited a vast sum of Galleons from his late aunt."

"Then Mabel Tancock was right after all." Honoria murmured. "She _was _a …" The word she used made Miss Carthew raise her eyebrows.

"Well, she was clever. She wrapped him round her finger, perhaps even used a love potion. She was an accomplished potioneer, as we know."

"Even though she doesn't know how to conjure the Dark Mark correctly," Isabelle remembered.

"But she knew how to make _Invisibiliserum_," Honoria said darkly, fumbling her amber collar.

"From the beginning she made sure that Archie gave her everything he owned," Gwen continued. "She bought expensive jewellery, and robes, and they both went to opulent parties. But she was greedy, and wanted more. They also bought a mansion. Archibald finally needed money, because he wanted to please his lovely blonde wife. So he borrowed the money from none other than Walden Macnair."

"Oh, dear."

"Did you get any more information from Macnair?"

"No. Macnair is as silent as a grave." Jonathan frowned. "And he's got some powerful protectors."

"And then Eleanor began carrying out her lethal plan? Why?"

"She had had enough. She despised Archie. She despised _weakness_, she said," Jonathan told them. "She wanted _a good life, some nice things, a bit of luxury, _she said, which means more money."

_Did they use Veritaserum on her? _Gwen thought. _That doesn't sound like sweet lovely Eleanor. _

"In the end she wanted to get rid of Archie because there was another rich admirer. So she proceeded to action. She told her husband she wanted to work with him in the Department of Mysteries. He helped her to get in, which isn't very easy, but she acted the sweet and loving wife. In the Department of Mysteries she had the opportunity to steal the runespoor fang venom from the Brain Room. And, of course, much more possibilities to divert the Aurors' attention from her. She bought the rest of the ingredients in the disguise of Suplinius Crow, for which she used Polyjuice Potion. She was really a proficient potioneer."

"She really confessed everything?" Isabelle asked, in surprise.

"Yes, as a potioneer she seemed to know what Veritaserum could do to her in her function as an Unspeakable. She was really frightened when the Aurors put the bottle on the table." Jonathan looked grim. "Apart from that, there was the evidence of the poisoned energy drinks."

"How did she explain her absence in the Planet Room?" Miss Carthew asked.

"Ah, now we're talking about the specific execution of the crime," Gwen nodded, and took a sip from her glass. Hugh hurried forward to pour her some more champaign.

"She used a Time Turner," Gwen explained. "I knew that two were missing in the Time Room, since Roberta had told me so, yet she had asked me to keep quiet about it. Pity I forgot about it afterwards. It later turned out that one Time Turner had been given to an excellent Hogwarts student in order to give her the opportunity to attend several subjects at the same time. Since this wasn't to be spread around, no one removed the Time Turner from the inventory. And the other one was stolen by Eleanor."

Everybody looked impressed.

"Eleanor used her invisibility cloak quite a lot, didn't she?" Miss Carthew asked.

Gwen nodded. "Yes, but she forgot that their magic is fallible. Obviously her gems shone through it."

"Did she make the tank explode?" Isabelle asked.

"Yes. She wanted to get more runespoor fang venom. I remember that she told me once that she wanted to leave the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps she thought that she'd better seize the occasion to get at the stuff as long as she was still working down there. Or perhaps she just decided to steal it on the spur of the moment. Perhaps it's already become a habit with her. On that day she came from the Planet Room, and the Brain Room was empty. She was just leaving Bob's office, when Firmin entered. How she managed to lock the door so that I couldn't open it, I don't know. She was wearing the invisibility cloak again, but knew that it would look strange if the door closed without anyone being there, so she threw a hex towards the tank. She said she just wanted to produce a slight diversion, like making the brains jump out of the tank or something like that, but her spell was too strong, and the whole thing burst."

"Very clever of her to come later and help with the mess," Honoria snorted.

"Yes, she was clever." Gwen munched some crisps. "Perhaps her only mistake was to leave the mug that still contained traces of the poison. I suppose she wanted to dispose of it after the murder, but was disturbed by Roberta leaving Timothy's office. She didn't know that there were such early _visitors._"

"And she cast the Dark Mark as a red herring. Evil, isn't it?" Isabelle said.

Miss Carthew shuddered imperceptibly. "Perhaps you," she bowed slightly towards Jonathan and Gwen, "would never have noticed that it was a fake Mark if there hadn't been another Dark Mark…"

Everybody went silent for some moments. Only Napoleon's purring could be heard.

"These are hard times we live in," Honoria murmured. "Eleanor wasn't a Death Eater, or she would have known how to conjure a Dark Mark. And yet she was as evil and reckless as any of You-Know-Who's followers. On the other hand the real death-eaters openly harass muggles and even cast Dark Marks in the sky."

"So we must stand more united and strong than ever before," Hugh said, slowly raising his glass. The others followed his lead. The champaign sparkled in their glasses.

~ooOOooOOooOOooOOoo~

In spite of that solemn outlook the evening turned out to be very enjoyable and pleasant.

Jonathan told them that Archibald's brain had been buried beside his urn under the beech in the grove.

Isabelle wanted to know what Crow was investigating, whispering – as a true Unspeakable – into Gwen's ear, but Gwen couldn't tell her, as he had never informed her about his work, even after they had found out who the murderess was.

Gwen reminisced about her and Crow shaking hands and closing their "fruitful" cooperation:

Agatha Hill had summoned them both to her office, and expressed her gratitude for their "excellent team effort and contribution to the investigation".

What she didn't tell her friends was how Agatha Hill had sent Crow away (who had been scowling) and talked to Gwen in private, thanking her for the special part she had played in tracking down the murderess.

"May I ask you a question?" Gwen had asked her, her stomach giving a funny jolt.

Agatha Hill had nodded and given a small smile.

Gwen had coughed slightly. "In the course of our investigation we found out that Archibald and … his colleague were probably working on … horcruxes?" She had emphasised the last word like a question.

Agatha Hill had looked at her with sharp steel-blue eyes. "You are right," she said after a short pause for reflection. "We are trying to investigate this very dark magic. It's very difficult and dangerous. I can't tell you anything more about it. Perhaps I can tell you that there are rumours that knowledge about this magical discipline might be needed one day. I got a hint from … never mind. I must impress upon you the necessity of keeping this _top secret_. Even… from the Minister of Magic." She had looked very serious. "I could, of course, modify your memory." Gwen had given a slight gasp. "I will have to modify the memories of other people who have gained knowledge about our new research field. I want you to tell me who they are."

Gwen had gulped. "It won't do them any harm," Agatha Hill had told her.

"Well, Isabelle, Honoria, Jonathan, and Mrs Beresford, I think," she had admitted uneasily. She didn't mention Miss Carthew. "But I wouldn't want you to modify their memories."

"All right, then, let me think. Perhaps an Unbreakable Vow will do. Mrs Gautier, Miss Brum, and you are Unspeakables anyway. And Mr Hope and Mrs Beresford are Aurors. Moreover, I trust you'll stay with us in the Department of Mysteries, won't you?" She had smiled.

And Gwen had smiled back, and nodded. So Mrs Hill had heard about Mrs Beresford's offer to train for an Auror, which she had declined. _Without a lot of help I would never have found out who the murderess was_, she had thought, _and my defensive spells leave also a lot to be desired_.

Ademarus and Isabelle had been happy to welcome her finally back to the team. "To investigate the Gautier waves," Isabelle had laughed merrily.

Gwen stirred the fire, and remembered all that, smiling again. Jonathan was her last guest, the others had all left.

She looked up. "Fancy a cup of tea?", she asked him.

"No, thanks," he took her hands into his. "Gwen?"

"Jon?"

"I'd like to ask you a question…," he cocked his head.

"Fire away," she said.

"Who is Norma?"

Gwen looked at him and took a deep breath. "I'm glad you ask me that. Norma and I were an item. We lived together in London for some months. But it's been over for some time. Only that she still hasn't realised it. She keeps writing to me, but I don't read her letters." She adjusted her glasses. "I'd like to know who's given her my address," she added as an afterthought. "Yet another mystery…"

"So you are…Lesbian?"

"No, I am bisexual. That's different."

"And what does that mean exactly?"

"That I might be attracted by men or women."

He looked at her. She sighed.

"That is all. There are a lot of different ways to be bisexual, or to live as a bisexual, you know, it also depends on the witch or wizard. Like any human beings we have different ways to feel, to love,… well, and to live what we are. For the moment I'm in love with you. As you are with me, I think."

"And… what about your feelings towards Roberta?"

"You noticed that, too?"

He smiled, and stroked her cheek with one finger. "I love you," he said simply. "I should notice."

She looked at him fondly, and threw her arms around him. "You are wonderful," she said, and kissed him.

"But you still won't work with me as an Auror?!", he pretended to complain.

"I'm a researcher, not an Auror," she laughed, "I'd be too afraid to chase dark wizards. I'll always be afraid for you! And I love my job in the Brain Room."

He sighed.

"Now, what about Roberta?"

"I fancied her. I fell in love with her. These things happen to me. I can love different people at the same time. Can't you?"

They looked at each other for a while.

"I will try to understand," he said slowly, now looking serious.

She gave him a squeeze.

"And what is Roberta going to do now?", he asked.

"She told me she's going to split up with Timothy. She doesn't want to be his secret love while he's still married. And he doesn't want to get a divorce, as it seems. She doesn't want to be my love, either, just for your information. And I think I'm over her now. She's going on leave for two weeks, "taking Amber Dancer for a holiday", trying to come to terms with herself, and trying to recover from all the strain."

Jonathan looked suddenly excited: "Oh, _that's _a good idea. What about us? Shouldn't we go on holiday? Just you and me?" He beamed at her, hopefully.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's do that!" Suddenly, Gwen felt incredibly light-hearted and happy. "We really deserve it! Where do we go?"

**THE END**


End file.
